Follow the Wind
by Tahimikamaxtli
Summary: Yasuo has lived with the wind by his side all his life. But when it turns on him, he must find his own path: to clear his name, to seek the truth. His path is as tempestuous as the wind itself, full of winding paths of pain and strife as he seeks the truth, revenge... and love.
1. Prologue: Howl of the Wind

**Follow the Wind**

Prologue: Howl of the Wind

The rising morning sun brought no warmth to Yasuo. He knelt with his back to it, his knees resting on his brother's makeshift grave. His hands, still stained with Yone's blood, shook as they gripped his knees. In front of him, Yone's sword jutted out of the ground like a tombstone, marking the place where his brother lay.

All around him, he could hear the constant howl of the wind. It tore through the Ionian mountains and over the grassy hills where he had fought Yone. Yasuo hated the sound. It reminded him that he could not escape the wind. All it had done to him was bring him pain; it had killed his master, stolen his future from him, and stained his honor with the blood of lies. And now it had killed his brother.

He gave an anguished cry, one that was lost in the wailing wind. His body still shook with heavy sobs and he placed his face in his hands.

"Why?" he shouted at his brother, "Why didn't you believe me? Why don't any of you believe me?"

Using his sword for support, he stood shakily. It took several minutes, and twice as many deep breaths, before Yasuo steadied himself. Though his eyes were still blurred by tears, they were also filled with a renewed determination.

For years, he had wandered without purpose, hiding and running. He had ran to escape his past, and ran to survive. He had outrun and outfought all those who had sought him, his blade cutting them down like so many leaves in the wind. Friends. Comrades. His brother.

Even Yone had just been another seed torn to pieces by the wind.

But now he had a lead. Yone had given him a fire to light his darkened path: the wind. Yasuo knew his journey would not be an easy one; it would be winding and thorny, that much he was certain of. But it would lead him to the truth.

Yasuo turned away from Yone's grave, his travelling pack tied securely to the blade of his sword.

"I will find them, brother. I will find who did this, and I will cut the truth from them. I swear it. On your sword and mine."

Even as he spoke his oath, the wind around him seemed to pick up speed. It tugged at him, pulling at his clothes and his hair, as if urging him to begin his journey. Yasuo looked back at where his brother lay, the sword marking Yone's final resting place. Yasuo knew that so long as his name was sullied, he would never be able to return to this place. He felt the wind pull at him again, and he relented, letting himself be led by the hands of the wind. He turned away from his brother's grave, looking instead to the rising sun.

"So it is, then. I will follow the wind."


	2. Chapter 1: Memories

Chapter 1: Memories

Yasuo awoke to the sound of falling rain. Blinking blearily and wincing against the harsh sound, it took him several moments to remember where he was: he had taken shelter from the oncoming storm in an abandoned house that he had found. He had felt the storm coming long before he had seen it, and it was by sheer luck that he had found the house where he now rested.

_Although I don't really think it's luck_, he thought grimly to himself, looking around at the ruins of the house. He had a very good idea as to why it was so dilapidated: the invasion by Noxus. Undoubtedly, this house had been destroyed by the Noxian war machine, with its inhabitants suffering a similar fate.

The house would have been neat once, with smooth wooden floors and walls, and lined with the simple furniture that was so characteristic of Ionians. Yasuo could still see the touches of the peaceful Ionian family that had once resided here, from the broken bowls and plates that were littered across the floor, to the burnt carvings that hung like tattered scraps of flesh on the walls.

_How would they feel_, he thought darkly to himself,_ if they knew that their house was being used by a convicted murderer?_

He ran his hand over a scorch mark seared into the floor, a ghastly reminder of the horrific Zaunite technology employed by the Noxians in their invasion. A gust of wind brought a spray of rain through the house, and Yasuo shivered as the cold water splashed across his skin. Drawing his cloak tighter around his shoulders, he shuffled further away from the holes in the wall. The fire he had lit last night had died now, and he pondered its remains, poking at the ashes with a finger.

He felt the claws of exhaustion dig into his head as he drew meaningless circles in the ash. The monotonous thudding of the rain was deafening in his ears, and he felt himself slip away into bizarre waking dreams. Slowly, the sound of the rain melded into another sound he knew all too well: the clashing of swords. Dimly, with his head swimming, he thought he heard the shouts of men long dead.

* * *

"_Yasuo, where are you going?" shouted Elder Roku, standing in a vain attempt to stop him from leaving. Yasuo grabbed his sword, tying it to his waist. He was not about to stand here twiddling his thumbs and wait for the Noxians to come to him; not when his comrades were being slaughtered outside the temple._

"_Yasuo, I order you to remain!" shouted Elder Roku in a commanding tone. Yasuo pretended not to hear him. He knew the Elder was not completely inept at defending himself, and Yasuo knew that his blade could be the one to turn the tides of the fight._

"_I will return, master!" he yelled over his shoulder, holding his sword tightly as he sprinted out of the Elder's room. The Elder's shouts died away as Yasuo ran down the long hallways of the temple towards the entrance. Already, he could hear the sounds of battle; the sound of clashing steel, and the agonized cries of dying men. _

_His feet slid across the floor as he brought himself to a stop above the central staircase of the temple. Around him, two sets of stairs descended into the first floor, where a swarm of writhing bodies and flashing steel fought, surging like creatures of their own. _

_Yasuo gave an almost manic laugh: already he could feel the blood pumping in his veins. This was war. This was battle. This was __**life.**_

_Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted a group of black-garbed Noxians forcing their way up one of the staircases, their dark blades cutting down the helpless inhabitants of the temple._

_With a shout, Yasuo leapt at them, the wind empowering his blade. He cut through the group easily, and their bodies fell, lifeless, back down the staircase. He stood in triumph, but not for long: already, he could see another group running up the staircase at him, their swords shining. _

"_Come on!" taunted Yasuo, raising his sword, "It'll take more than that to kill me!"_

_The second group fell as quickly as the first, and Yasuo leapt nimbly over their bodies, landing unharmed on the first floor. With him, the Noxians were slowly pushed out of the temple, and Yasuo stepped out into the blinding sun. _

_All around the temple, the battle raged. Bodies of friends and foes alike were scattered like broken dolls around the temple, with more being added with every passing second. _

_Yasuo looked around, searching for a familiar face. Spotting one, he shouted, and made his way over._

"_Yuki!" _

_Yuki spun around at the sound of his name, sword drawn. "Yasuo!" he shouted, sheathing his sword as he saw who it was. Yuki's face and clothes were splattered with blood, much of it not his own. Yuki, like Yasuo, was tasked with guarding the master of the temple, Elder Roku._

"_Yasuo!" repeated Yuki, walking over to where Yasuo stood preparing for battle, "What are you doing here?" _

_Yasuo laughed, placing a hand on Yuki's shoulder. "Worry not, Yuki. I have come!"_

_Yuki's face was one of a mixture of barely masked relief and an uncertain confusion. "That's great… but aren't you supposed to be protecting Elder Roku?"_

"_I am. But if I kill all the dirty Noxians here on the battlefield, there won't be any one to protect him from, will there?" _

_Yuki's expression remained skeptical, but Yasuo knew he would not protest; Yuki would be more than relieved to know that Yasuo, the best in their company by far, would be fighting by his side._

"_I… I guess not," he mumbled uncertainly. He shook his head vigorously, as if to convince himself. "Fine! We'll worry about the consequences later! For now, we need your help."_

_Yasuo drew his sword with a grin. "Don't I know it."_

_Yuki gave a weak smile. But as he looked over Yasuo's shoulder, his expression turned to one of fear and panic. _

"_Duck!" he shouted, pushing Yasuo's head down even as he protested angrily. Yasuo felt a blade cut through where his head had been moments ago, and he spun around to face the attacker, his sword drawn._

_He faltered as his eyes fell on the Noxian. It was a young woman, no older than he was, wielding a black sword that was as tall as her. Judging from her armor, Yasuo assumed she was some sort of commander. But it was her beauty that stunned him: she was unlike any woman he had seen before, her red eyes blazing like fire with conviction, and her white hair tied behind her like a tail of winter snow. _

"_Commander, careful, he's dangerous!" shouted a helmeted Noxian, one of whom had seen him cut down two companies of soldiers by himself. His voice shook Yasuo from his daze._

_The Noxian commander merely swung her sword in reply, and Yasuo raised his own to block it. He felt his arms numb as his blade vibrated, stopping hers in its tracks._

"_Get out of my way!" she shouted as he parried her attacks with frightening speed. He knew that although she was skilled, she was no match for him; he could have ended her life swiftly had he tried to. But he did not. He still had his code of honor: she was a woman, and he would not harm a woman._

_She seemed to realize this, and her expression turned into one of frustration. She seemed to know that she could not beat him, and that he would not kill her. Suddenly, she raised her sword high into the air, and gave a shout that knocked Yasuo onto his back with its force. She stepped quickly over his prone form, and from the floor, Yasuo realized dumbly that it must have been a ki shout._

_He stood quickly, but not quickly enough; he could see her white-haired form running into the temple, far too quickly for him to catch. Yasuo grabbed Yuki's shoulder and pulled him to his feet._

"_Follow her and stop her!" he told him, giving him a push, "Don't let her get further into the temple!"_

_Yuki nodded and ran after the woman. Yasuo kept his eyes on his back until he vanished from view, then he turned back to the battle. His sword held high, he gave another shout, and leapt into the fray._

* * *

It was the silence that woke Yasuo; it took him a moment to realize that it meant the storm had passed. Blinking away the last holds of sleep and her visions on his mind, he stood shakily. His limbs were numb and sore from falling asleep on the unforgiving, wooden floor, but that was not the reason for the shaking in his extremities.

He had experienced the same dream over and over all these years he had run: an almost mocking reminder of the past, of the instant where he had made the mistake that had brought him to where he stood now. He had lived it a million times over in his mind, and it was no easier each new time.

He shivered where he stood, and only partly from the chill of the passing storm.

His hands clenched tightly into fists, and they shook with a painful sort of anger. When he found the true culprit, he was going to savor cutting them down. He would teach them his pain, make sure they knew his loss. And maybe then, just maybe, he would find peace. If not peace, then vengeance.

He was fine with vengeance.


	3. Chapter 2: The Unforgiven

Chapter 2: The Unforgiven

Yasuo wandered aimlessly through the Ionian forest. His feet dragged along the forest floor, and the rustling of leaves followed him as he walked. The forest still smelled of rain, and his feet were moist as he walked over the damp grass. He had been walking ever since early morning; hunger gnawed at his stomach and exhaustion tortured his mind. A light fog hung in the forest air, and it did nothing to help the chill he felt deep within his bones.

The mist of the forest seemed to mirror his own mental state; after spending a restless night in the Ionian house he had stumbled upon, he had woken early in the morning to set out once more. His head was still foggy, and more than once, he thought he had seen ghostly figures on the edges of his vision. He had felt as though he was still in a dream, with his head swimming, and experiencing periods of time where he had no idea where he was or how he had gotten there.

Although Yone's revelation had given him new information, he was no closer to finding the true killer than before. It was not helpful at all that he was the only student who he knew had mastered the wind technique in at least a generation. He had no idea where to begin his search. The clue about the wind technique would help him to confirm his suspicion when he found the culprit, but for now, it did nothing to aid.

And more importantly, he needed a drink.

Yasuo felt his knees buckle from exhaustion, and he fell forward, stumbling to a nearby tree. Unable to catch himself, he collapsed against an ancient maple tree. Its seeds littered the ground around him, and bitterly, he thought of his brother. Yone had given him a maple seed as a reminder of the true path of honor for a samurai.

_Fat lot of help it did me,_ he thought angrily.

His vision blurred as he leaned with his back against the moist bark. Head swimming, he closed his eyes as once more, and he thought he heard the sounds of men he once knew echoing throughout the trees.

* * *

_Yasuo stood at the entrance to the temple once more, chest heaving and sword painted like ink with blood. With his help, the inhabitants of the temple had been able to kill most of the Noxian invaders, driving back those who still remained breathing. His mind was still surging with the rush of battle, and he realized that he could not remember the majority of the fight, nor did he know for just how long he had been fighting._

_With shaking hands, he sheathed his blade, turning away from the carnage of death. He took slow footsteps back into the temple, an unexplainable feeling of dread falling over him. He stepped over the bodies of Noxians and Ionians alike as he made his way back inside. He was at the foot of the central staircase when he heard his name shouted by a familiar voice._

"_Yasuo!" yelled Yuki from the top of the stairs. Yasuo raised his head. Yuki and several other guards of Elder Roku stood in a group, their swords held at their sides. They looked impressive, framed against the light of the temple, and standing like a final group of arbiters. _

_He raised a hand in response, and watched as the group made their way down the stairs. There was something in their expressions that spawned fear in his heart. _

"_What's wrong?" he asked, concerned, as they arrived where he stood._

"_Elder Roku is dead," said Yuki, in a tone that was equal parts bitter and devastated._

_Yasuo felt as though a sword had been plunged into his stomach. _Elder Roku. Dead. _Unable to believe it, he stumbled forward onto his knees, his sword clattering to the floor by his side. _

_He had failed. He had been given one task, and he had failed it. His own stupidity and foolishness had killed Elder Roku. All his life, he had lived by a code of honor. And now, when it had mattered the most, he had broken it._

I deserve to die_, he thought numbly to himself, staring down at the wooden floor of the temple_, I deserve to die a thousand times over. There is no coming back from this shame and dishonor.

"_Yasuo, you understand what this means, don't you?" asked Yuki in a tense voice._

_Yasuo merely nodded slowly; there was no need to reply. He knew what his failure meant for him. _Death.

_He leaned forward, extending his head. He would die like a dog. And still, it would be more than the death he deserved. _

_Yuki unsheathed his sword, placing it on the back of Yasuo's neck. Yasuo shivered slightly as he felt the cold steel bite his skin. With shaking hands, Yuki raised the sword high over his head._

"_Very well, then, Yasuo. For the unspeakable crime of forsaking your sworn duty, and for the unforgivable act of murdering the very master you were sworn to protect, I hereby sentence you to death."_

_Yasuo blinked. _What? Murder? _He did not kill Elder Roku._

"_Before you are put to death, do you have any last words?" asked Yuki, his tone cold and unforgiving._

"_Yes." _

_Yasuo raised his head and met Yuki's gaze. "I accept the charge of deserting my post, but I was not the one who killed Elder Roku, so why am I being charged for his murder?"_

"_You are the only one who could have done it, Yasuo."_

_Yasuo stood in defiance, and a different emotion was overruling his shame: bewilderment._

"_What do you mean?"_

"_The evidence is undeniable. You are the true murderer of Elder Roku."_

"_I did not kill him!"_

"_Silence," said another guard, Haru, "The lies that come from your traitorous mouth are unbearable."_

"_They are not lies," said Yasuo through gritted teeth._

"_Regardless," said Haru coldly. "These are your crimes. This is the truth. There is no point in arguing with a dead man."_

"_These are the crimes that have been brought against you, Yasuo," said Yuki, his voice shaking now, "Do you accept your punishment?"_

"_No."_

_As he said it, Yasuo could see the other swordsmen reach for their swords. He picked up his own, holding it firmly._

"_Are you abandoning your life of honor then?" asked Haru, his voice full of barely controlled rage, "Will you abandon the life you have known and turn away to a path where you become less than human? Less than dead? Less than the scum who we have slain here today?"_

"_No. I will not forget my honor. But I will not also stand here and die while the true murderer runs free. I will hunt them down and bring them to justice, whether I do it alone or not.__** That **__is my path." _

"_Enough of your lies!" shouted Haru, drawing his sword. "You are less than the dirt of the forest floor! You are Unforgiven. And as my sworn duty to my master, I will put you down like the dog you are."_

_Haru swung his blade viciously, and Yasuo ducked away, leaping nimbly back out the temple. Already, he could see the other guards closing in around him, their swords at the ready. _

_Yasuo drew his own blade, and as he did so, a heavy feeling fell over him. His hands shook as he felt his future shatter and rearrange, molding into a path of strife and pain._

There is no going back,_ he thought, _From the moment I draw my sword, there will be no going back from this path I have chosen. They will not believe me. They will hate me. They will hunt me. But I will find the truth.I will be forgotten and shunned. I will be Unforgiven.

_With the wind by his side, the Unforgiven cut his way out of the temple._

* * *

Yasuo's head pained him more than ever as he awoke. He was still leaning against the tree where he had fallen asleep, but now it was late at night. He could feel the cold fingers of death wrap around him, reaching for him. Hunger, thirst, and exhaustion were taking their toll, and he knew he would unable to stop the final rest that was coming for him.

_What a way to die¸_ he thought, with a trace of dark humor_, against a tree. With no funeral and no proper burial. A fitting end for scum like me. _

He opened his eyes slightly as he heard the sound of muffled footsteps.

_Well, here comes the Grim Reaper_, he thought as the sound drew closer to him_. _He felt a shadow fall over him as the figure stopped in front of him. With his eyes slightly open, he could see the silhouette of a thin shape standing over him, holding a large scythe in one hand. It reached down a dark hand to him, stretching with an embrace that was almost tender.

Yasuo gave a soundless chuckle. _Come for me, then._

And then all went black.


	4. Chapter 3: Delirium

Chapter 3: Delirium

Yasuo was lost in the wind. His head was filled with rushing memories, tattered scraps of voices and faces that fluttered without purpose like leaves in a gale. He felt as though he was floating, his body weightless.

He opened his eyes slightly, and was surprised to see a very familiar figure standing over him, crowned by a painfully bright light.

Yone looked down on him appraisingly, an unreadable expression on his face. Yasuo's voice was frozen in his throat.

_This can't be real. Yone is dead. I cut him down myself._

"Yone…" he choked. His brother's eyes, so much like his own, met his and Yasuo shuddered uncontrollably. There was no love in his brother's eyes. There was only a questioning loathing, piercing Yasuo even as he lay helpless. Yasuo could hear the word that his brother spoke wordlessly.

_Why._

"Brother… what is this? Where am I?"

Yone did not reply. Instead, he continued to glare at Yasuo, his gaze never wavering. Then, with a slowness that was horrible in its deliberateness, he drew his sword. Yasuo felt fear seize at his heart. He tried to struggle, to move, to fight back, to do **anything**, but his body would not let him. It was as if iron chains held him tight, locking him in place. His breath quickened uncontrollably as Yone raised the sword high over his head.

Yone opened his mouth to speak, and his voice was terrible, heavy as if leaden with the authority of fate itself.

"_You are Unforgiven, brother."_

The sword flashed down through the air. Yasuo screamed.


	5. Chapter 4: Toru

Chapter 4: Toru

Yasuo was still screaming when he awoke. Restraining hands held him down as he thrashed wildly, shaking in desperate fear. His chest heaved as he struggled against the hands that held him in place. Slowly, he became aware that the fingers that held his arms and legs were not Death's, but instead, warm human ones. He looked around, his eyes rolling wildly in their sockets.

An Ionian family stood around him, their faces half-concerned and half-fearful as they looked down at him. In total, he counted four figures, two of whom were currently holding him down to restrict his movement. The man to his left was much older than he was, with a beard that was flecked with grey. The one to his right was still young, and his face was strained as he kept his hold on Yasuo's arms and legs.

At the foot of the bed, there were two women, one of a more advanced age, and one that must have been only slightly younger than Yasuo himself, watching him with fearful eyes.

"Where-," he said hoarsely, his throat dry, "Where am I?"

The family jumped, startled; evidently, they did not realize that he had awoken.

"You're in my house," said the older man, his grip not loosening in the slightest, "I don't know if you know where you are, but you're in Ionia. Outside a village called Talos. My name is Toru and this is my family."

Yasuo nodded in response, taking deep breath so as to stop his shaking. As his body calmed, the holds on his body began to loosen, until at least Toru and his son had let go of Yasuo completely. Toru took a slight step backward, his chest rising from exertion. He wiped a hand across his damp brow.

"Who are you, stranger?"

Yasuo sat up in the bed, rolling his shoulders; his body was stiff and sore, and his head still throbbed painfully. He opened his mouth, intent on answering, but then decided against it. He thought for a moment before deciding on a suitable reply.

"My name is not a welcome one," he said slowly, "For my sake… and for yours, I would avoid asking that question."

Toru nodded slowly, but the suspicion did not leave his eyes.

"Well, I'm glad to see you're not crazed; you were running a high fever for four days. You were delirious as well, thrashing and yelling in your sleep. I didn't think you would make it."

Yasuo pressed his palms to his eyes in an effort to stop the world from spinning.

"How… how did I get here? How did you find me?"

Toru pointed to a simple grain scythe that was propped up against one of the walls of the house; the thing that Yasuo had taken for the Grim Reaper's blade.

"I'm a grain farmer. I was walking back from the fields through the forest when I saw you against that tree." Toru gave a low chuckle. "Not the best place to fall asleep. Especially not since you were still drenched from that storm. My son Kirin and I carried you back here, and we've taken care of you since. I'm glad to see you're alright."

Yasuo kept his face in his hands, and his shoulders shook from unexpected emotion.

_I don't deserve this_, he thought bitterly, _I don't deserve any of their kindness. I should have died there. I deserved to._ He took a shuddering breath, raising his head.

"Thank you," he said thickly. "Thank you all so much."

It was the older woman who spoke this time. "Don't think twice about it. Anyone around these parts would have done the same."

"My wife's right," said Toru, "This is Ionia. No one would hesitate to help a man in need."

Yasuo looked at them, his throat tight. _That's right. This is Ionia. __**This **__is my country. This is the life I should be living, not one of strife and pain._

Toru extended a hand. "Come on, then. We were just about to eat when we heard you moving about again. Join us."

Yasuo took the man's hand, and he used it as support to pull himself to his feet. With a start, he realized that the clothes he wore were utterly foreign.

"Where are my clothes?" he asked. The notion of having his clothes removed while he was asleep was not an appealing one.

"We had to take them off of you. They were soaked through and we needed to get you dry. They're hanging outside right now. But come. First, you need to eat."

* * *

Some time later, Yasuo found himself seated at a typical Ionian table, in between Toru and his son Kirin. Toru's daughter, whose name he had learned was Rala, was seated across from him, and she watched him, an expression of interest on her face. Yasuo ate gratefully, savoring everything from the simple Ionian rice to the clear spring water that he drank.

He kept his gaze firmly focused on his food, pointedly ignoring the eyes of Rala. The looks that she was giving him caused an uncomfortable squirming in his stomach. She was very pretty, but Yasuo did not feel like he should test the hospitality of the family who had housed him.

"Who's Yone?" she asked suddenly.

Yasuo choked on his rice, coughing loudly. That was a question he had not expected.

"Rala!" said her mother sternly, looking at her in disapproval.

"What? He was the one who kept on muttering it in his sleep!" she protested. "I just want to know who it is."

"Even so, Rala, it's not polite t-," began her mother.

"No, it's fine," said Yasuo kindly. "You and your family have shown me hospitality even though I refuse to give my name. The least I can do is answer some of your questions." He looked at Rala, meeting her eyes. "Yone… was my brother. He was killed not too long ago."

Rala face reddened in embarrassment, and she immediately looked regretful about her question. Her brother smirked at her, wearing a smug look that said, "Told you."

"I, I-," she stammered, "I'm sorry, I didn't know…"

Her face red, she looked down at the table, suddenly very interested its design. Her father, however, kept his eyes on Yasuo.

"So then," he said slowly, "I think I know what you were doing in the forest."

Yasuo nodded. "I'm looking for the one who killed my brother."

"And what do you intend to do when you've found them?" asked his wife. "Ki-,"

"Kill them? No… I don't know what I'm going to do to them." Yasuo picked up one of the cutting knives on the table, turning it in his fingers.

He was not lying: he did not know what he was going to do to the culprit when he found them. Death would be too swift a release. As he studied the cutting knife, he suddenly remembered something.

_My sword._

"Where's my pole?" he asked suddenly, standing and causing the others to jump slightly.

"Pole?"

"My fishing pole. The one I had with me. It was wrapped in cloth."

Toru stroked his beard. "That thing? I left it where we found you. It was heavy and we were more focused on getting you out of the cold."

"Can you show me where you left it?"

Yasuo was unable to stop the shaking in his limbs. If he lost his sword, he would be nothing. For all these years, it had been his only companion. It had been his one connection to the past. And he would not abandon his past.

"What's so important about it?" asked Toru, standing nonetheless.

"It was my brother's. It's the only thing I have left of him."

Toru nodded in understanding. "I see." Turning to the door, he motioned for Yasuo to follow. "Come on, then. If we have any luck, it should still be where I found you; not a lot of people know the path I take to come home."

Yasuo followed him as he made his way into the forest.


	6. Chapter 5: Lost in the Forest

Chapter 5: Lost in the Forest

The sound of crunching leaves followed Toru and Yasuo as they made their way through the forest. Moving swiftly through the undergrowth, they stepped over fallen tree limbs and ducked under low-hanging branches. Close to an hour had passed before Toru began to slow his pace.

"Up here," he said, leading the way with a finger. "I left it over here." He pointed to a clearing in the forest surrounded by tall trees; Yasuo recognized it dimly as the place where he had collapsed. His heart was pounding as he followed. That sword was all he had ever known for nearly four years; his only companion, his only company. It was the only light for a path that was otherwise dark and winding.

Toru stopped abruptly, and Yasuo barely caught himself to stop from running into him.

"What is it?" asked Yasuo. Toru stood in place, looking around with a confused expression.

"It's… it's not here."

Panic seized at Yasuo. _No. _He stepped around Toru, looking around wildly. His sword was nowhere in sight. Yasuo stumbled through the growth, hands and eyes searching as if of their own accord.

"No, no, no, no, no…" he repeated, gripping at trees. He searched madly for minutes, but there was nothing. It was gone. With a cry of anger, he struck the trunk of a nearby tree. His knuckles split against the rough bark and he felt blood run down his fingers. He swayed a moment before falling to his knees. Giving an agonized yell, he slammed his fists on the ground.

_It's gone, it's lost. Now I've lost my path again._ His mind was numb and his body shook as though from exhaustion. His sword had been by his side for so long, without it, he felt as though his heart had been torn from his body. To him, it was more than a sword. It was a lifeline to the life that he had lost and abandoned. Without it, he was as lost as he had been when Yone had found him. He remained in that position for several silent minutes, stricken with a consuming hopelessness.

Finally, Yasuo felt a tentative hand fall on his shoulder. "Don't worry, we'll find it," said Toru reassuringly, although his voice was tinged with guilt.

Yasuo replied without looking at him. "How? It's gone."

"Not so. Talos isn't the largest town, but it's the biggest one around these parts. Everyone passes through there. I guarantee if we ask around, we'll find someone who's seen something."

Yasuo stood shakily. Toru was right. _There might still be hope_. He clenched his fist, ignoring the sting in his knuckles. _I'll find it._

* * *

"Did you find it?" asked Rala the instant they had returned.

Toru shook his head. "It wasn't there. Someone must have taken it."

Rala pressed a hand to her mouth. "Oh, no."

"We'll head to Talos come the weekend to see if anyone stumbled across it. If we have any luck, it'll be there." Toru looked at Yasuo. "In the meantime, I'd appreciate it if you could help out with the harvest. I could always use an extra pair of hands."

Yasuo nodded his agreement. Helping Toru would be the least he could do to even begin to repay the kindness they had shown him.

_Even if they did lose your sword_, said a small, poisonous voice in his mind. Yasuo shook his head to silence it.

_That's not their fault. Without their help, I would be dead right now. That's what really matters. _Yasuo did not know why he was arguing with himself.

_And if they see it's not a fishing rod? What then? Will you tell the truth? That __**you **__killed your brother? That you're nothing more than a dirty, murdere-_

"Shut up," growled Yasuo under his breath, clutching at his head.

"What was that?" asked Toru, turning to him.

Yasuo blinked. "Nothing. It was nothing. Do you want to show me the fields?"

"Sure. Follow me."

The afternoon sun was high in the sky, shining on the glimmering fields of Ionian rice and grain, which shimmered like a sea of gold. Yasuo blinked against its almost painfully bright light, raising a hand to cover his eyes.

"It's not a lot, but it's a living," said Toru, pointing with his hand to mark the area that he tended to. It was roughly a quarter mile long as well as wide, and seemed a reasonable size for a small family. He was admiring the small field when he spotted an object flying at him. He caught it deftly with one hand. It was a simple scythe, used for harvesting wheat and other grains.

He looked at Toru, who was grinning. "Well then? What are you waiting for? Get working, we don't have all day."

* * *

The sun had already set when Kirin, Toru, and Yasuo had made their way back into the house. The instant he had entered, he was greeted with the appetizing scent of steamed vegetables, rice, and the unmistakable smell of meat. He sat down at the table, accepting the food gratefully.

"We'll have to wait until the weekend comes before we can travel to Talos," Toru told him, "It's not exactly a short journey, and we'll need some time to get ready."

Yasuo nodded, trying to ignore the fact that, with every passing second, his chances of finding his sword again were slipping away. When he had finished with his meal, he stood. Although Toru suggested he get some sleep, he declined. Instead, Yasuo stepped outside into the darkness of the night, intent on watching the stars.

In the Ionian countryside, the night was clear, and Yasuo could see the stars sparkling like diamonds in the night sky. He took a deep breath, inhaling the brisk night air and keeping his eyes on the lights overhead. The full moon shone brightly, and its pale silver color reminded him of the Noxian commander he had fought.

Of all the faceless soldiers he had killed that day, hers was the only face he remembered. Her intense crimson eyes and her white hair had stayed with him all these long years, and in his wanderings, he had found himself thinking of her more times than he would have liked.

"Are you thinking of someone?" asked a voice from behind him. Yasuo jumped, spinning around. He had not heard Rala walk up behind him, and her voice had been uncomfortably close. He placed a hand on his heart to calm its frantic beating.

"You scared me," he said with a breathless chuckle. "I didn't hear you."

She smiled apologetically. "I'm sorry. I should have said something."

"Its fine, you just caught me by surprise." He narrowed his eyes at her. "Did you want to ask me something?" He asked her when his heart-rate had fallen. Although he knew she had asked him something, her sudden appearance had surprised him to such a point that he did not catch what it was she had said.

"Just if you were thinking of someone. You looked like you were, out here all by yourself." She stood some ways away from him, hands clasped behind her back. In the moonlight, her youthful beauty was framed by the delicate light.

Yasuo turned away, pushing the image of the Noxian commander out of his mind. "In… in a way. You could say I was."

"Well, she's very lucky," said Rala simply. Yasuo turned to her, unable to reply. He had never mentioned the Noxian. How had she known?

"It _is_ a woman, isn't it?" she pressed, when he remained in his dumbfounded silence. She smiled sadly as he nodded. "I thought so. Well, she's lucky to have had you."

Yasuo chuckled humorlessly. "It's not like that. I never knew her. I don't even know if she's still alive."

"Really?" She took a quick step close, and before he could do anything to stop her, she had given him a quick kiss on the cheek. "Maybe you should be looking for her instead of the one who killed your brother. Find love and learn to move on, instead of seeking hate and only finding pain." With that, she turned on her heel and began to walk back to the house.

Yasuo was left standing, speechless for the second time in less than two minutes. Rala was already halfway back to the house when he finally found his voice again.

"Good night!" he called after her, his hand touching the place where she had kissed him.

"Good night!" she replied without looking back, raising a hand in farewell.

* * *

The others were already fast asleep when Yasuo finally returned to the house. Laying on the mattress they had set aside for him, he stared up at the plain wooden roof, his hands behind his head. He remained that way for a long while, thinking. He pondered Rala's words, and his own feelings.

_Is my path truly the right one? Or should I be looking for something else? I don't know anymore._

When sleep finally came for him, it was with dreams of red-eyed and white-haired Noxians.


	7. Chapter 6: Words Amongst Trees

Chapter 6: Words Amongst Trees

Yasuo and Toru awoke early when the weekend came in order to prepare for their journey to Talos. Eris, his wife, had prepared them a meal that would last them for the extent of their journey, and Yasuo accepted it graciously. Toru kissed his wife and hugged his children, all the while giving reassuring words and promises. Yasuo watched from the shadowy corners of the house, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed.

He did not press Toru to quicken his goodbyes.

_No need to rush_, he thought to himself.

The sky was still a dark blue as they stepped out into the morning fog. Mist hung low over the ground, and Yasuo shivered against the cold, pulling his borrowed cloak tighter around him. Toru had told him that it would take near four hours to arrive at Talos, and that they would arrive quite some time before noon.

The pair stepped out onto the rough path that led to the far away town. Raising hands in farewell to the three figures silhouetted against the light from within the house, they began their journey.

* * *

They walked in silence through the forest path, not talking save for phrases such as, "This way," or, "Watch out."

Yasuo was no stranger to silent journeys; he had spent most, if not all of his time these past years in solitude, walking down long-forgotten paths by himself. He almost welcomed the silence; it was like an old friend to him.

The sun had risen now, its warm light reaching through the trees to shine over the two companions when they finally stopped to rest. Toru sat on a nearby rock, his chest rising. Yasuo remained standing on the path, looking off down into the forest where it led. Toru removed the two small bowls of rice and vegetables that had been packed as a lunch, handing one to Yasuo.

They ate in silence; the only sounds were those of chewing and that of the forest around them. They finished their meal wordlessly, and although Yasuo was eager to get moving, Toru remained sitting on the boulder, apparently in thought.

"Let me warn you," said Toru, breaking the silence as he replaced his now-empty bowl in his pack. "Talos isn't like most other Ionian towns. It's a lot larger, and a lot different."

Yasuo took a drink from his water-skin before replying. "How so?"

"It's a trade town. Not the biggest in Ionia, but it's pretty well known. As a result, the people there might be... different."

Yasuo knew what he meant; he had spent his fair share of time in trade towns, and they were always different. Many different people, ranging from Yordles to Ionians to even Noxians, were often congregated in these such towns. It gave the towns often times a very un-Ionian feel; an atmosphere of shifty, dangerous, and untrustworthy men and women.

"I understand," said Yasuo. "I've been in some of those trade towns before."

"Really? Well, I'm glad you already know what they're like. Just thought I should warn you." Toru was still for a moment, fixing his pack. Then he spoke again. "It's not a fishing pole, is it?"

Yasuo blinked. "What?"

"That thing you're after. I don't think it's a fishing pole."

"What makes you say that?" Yasuo's heart was pounding in his chest.

"I've done my fair share of fishing. I've never seen a pole that shape, or felt one that's so heavy." He nodded at Yasuo. "And besides, you don't look at all like a fisherman." He wrinkled his nose. "Don't smell like one, either. If I had to wager, I'd say you were some kind of soldier. You've got the build for it. You've got those eyes; eyes that've seen war. You carry yourself like one, too. If not a soldier, then a samurai. Or maybe a ninja. But those aren't around so much anymore."

Yasuo was stunned; Toru was far smarter and observant than he had let on, or that Yasuo had assumed him to be. He opened his mouth to retort, to lie again, but paused.

_Why am I lying? Toru and his family have done nothing but show me kindness. Who am I to continue to keep them in the dark? They have done so much for me, without asking for anything in return. Why am I so afraid to tell them?_

Yasuo stood for a moment more, conflicted. Then, slowly, he knelt down, looking down at the beaten dirt of the forest path.

"No," he said quietly, "it's not a fishing pole."

"It's a sword, isn't it?"

Yasuo looked up in surprise, and Toru smiled at the expression on his face, as if confirming his suspicions.

"I thought so."

"If you knew, why did you take me in? Why didn't you say anything? I could have killed you and your family!" Yasuo had not meant to raise his voice, but he did so anyways. He did not know why had; perhaps he wanted to chastise Toru's stupidity, his naiveté. Maybe he wanted to mask the fact that now he felt he owed more to this simple farmer than ever for taking him in even when he knew it could have cost him his life.

Toru shrugged dismissively. "I don't think so."

"Why not?" Yasuo wanted to know; he wanted to know what had possessed this man to be so trusting, so kind.

"I had faith. I decided to trust you. You didn't seem like the type of person who would do that. You seemed honorable."

Yasuo laughed out loud, the sound humorless as it echoed through the trees. "Honor? _Honor?_ My honor left me a long time ago." He stood, looking the man in the eyes. "You're right. I'm no fisherman. I'm a soldier. A _samurai_. I've killed, Toru. I've killed more men than I can count, and that's a far bigger number than I would ever want to know or remember."

"I believe you."

"Then why? Why do all this for me? Why save me, why help me?" he demanded.

"Because you seemed to need it. You were lost, weren't you? Not only literally, but spiritually." His gaze was piercing as he returned the glare Yasuo gave him. "Still are, aren't you?"

Yasuo faltered under the intensity of the old man's stare.

_He's right. I'm still lost. After all this time, after all these years, I'm still lost. I don't even know what I'm looking for. I never have, Yone. Even after what you told me, I'm not any closer to finding it._

Yasuo remained standing, numb. What _had_ he been looking for? What was he seeking all these lonely years? Revenge? Vengeance for something that _he _did? That _he_ brought upon himself?

He raised his hands shakily, imagining the bloodstains that he knew were there. _I'm the one I've been looking for, the one I should be hunting. _I'm _the guilty one. _He did not notice that Toru had stood and made his way over to where he stood dazed.

The old man placed a fatherly, reassuring hand on his shoulder. Yasuo looked into Toru's eyes, so full of a tender kindness. "Whatever it is you finally decide on looking for, I hope you find it."

Yasuo could not find any words to say. Toru did not seem to expect any, and after squeezing Yasuo's shoulder encouragingly, he turned and began to make his way down the forest path. Yasuo remained where he stood.

Toru was almost out of sight when, without looking back, he called over his shoulder, "Come on, then! It's still at least an hour's walk before we get to Talos! You want to get there before noon, don't you?"

Yasuo looked at the man's fading figure, finally shaken from his thoughts. Slowly, he set off briskly after the man.

* * *

The remainder of the journey passed in a different sort of silence. Yasuo walked some distance behind Toru, almost ashamed to meet the old man's eyes. Here he was, a samurai who had trained among the most enlightened figures of Ionia, feeling as though he were a child being scolded. And all because of a farmer. One who Yasuo thought should be placed on the Council of Elders of Ionia. He made a mental note never to underestimate Ionian grain farmers ever again.

It was near another half hour before they began to finally approach Talos. More specifically, Yasuo felt the city long before he saw it; the forest around them seemed to grow less wild, the trees becoming more tame and civilized. Yasuo could smell, hanging in the air, the unmistakable scent of smoke and acrid smell of human waste. The forest path grew wider and well-kept, with stone bricks beginning to appear among the brown dirt.

And suddenly, it was though he had been placed in a different world. City noises – the shouts of men and women selling wares, the cries of children, the sound of horse hooves on stone – filled the air without warning. At the same time, Yasuo could see a large stone arch appear among the trees in front of him, faded words etched across its length.

Toru looked up at the arch, and then turned to face Yasuo. A small grin was on the old man's lined face.

"Well, we made it."

They had arrived at Talos.


	8. Chapter 7: Over a Drink

Chapter 7: Over a Drink

The tavern was a large, stereotypical one. Composed of primarily a large hall lined with tables, the Curved Claw was like so many others around Valoran. A long counter lined one wall of the hall, dotted by many wooden stools. A swinging door led into the kitchen, where dishes were constantly being brought out to the appreciative tavern crowd.

Yasuo sat at the tavern counter, nursing his tankard of warm ale between two hands. He stared absentmindedly at the amber liquid swirling within the glass, while all around him, the sound of a rowdy mess hall filled his ears: men jeering at the young pretty waitresses who weaved their way nimbly through the tide of bodies, avoiding groping hands and ignoring lewd glances; the unmistakable sound of men challenging each other to drinking matches or arm wrestling contests; the all-too common commotion of breaking glass or a drunk body falling to the tavern floor.

Yasuo hated it. He had spent so long alone in the wilderness that he hated every minute he spent in large cities. Large cities, although they did not frighten him, disturbed him. The idea of a place where any man or woman or child would stab you in the back for a bag of gold coins was an unsettling one. Especially in a place like Ionia.

Small towns, he could deal with; small towns where the bars were quiet, dark, and empty places to forget your demons in the bottom of a glass; places where one could pretend that tomorrow did not exist, at least for one more night. But today, he was not in a small town. Today, he was in Talos. He sighed deeply into his glass, trying his best to drown out the noise around him.

At least the ale was good.

He looked up at the large clock that hung on the wall behind the counter for what must have been the 30th time. Toru had left him in the tavern to go seek information on whether anyone had entered the city with an object that would fit his description of his sword. Apparently, he was friendly with many of the customs officers of Talos, and he had reassured Yasuo that he would return with worthwhile information.

"I hope so," he muttered under his breath, taking another long drag of his drink. Every second he spent in the tavern was a living hell to him. His senses had been honed by his training at the sword school, and every shout of glee from the men in the tavern made him wince.

_Same goes for the smell_, he thought unhappily. The scent of a hundred, drunk, sweating bodies crammed into a single room was not a pleasant one. He shifted as he felt a sudden pressure at his side, and a warm, slender body slid into the seat to his immediate right.

He glanced at his neighbor out of the corner of his eye, but all he saw was a cloaked figure. The bartender appeared in front of the figure, but the woman waved him away with a voice that he could hear even through the din of the tavern, saying she needed time to decide. For it was a woman: the litheness of her figure and the softness of her voice gave that much away. The bartender nodded in understanding, then left to attend to his other customers.

Yasuo thought it strange that a woman could have entered a tavern like this without being noticed, but he thought little of it. Ionia could be a strange place sometime. Soon enough, he turned his mind back to the clock and awaiting Toru.

"How's the beer here?" came a delicate voice by his side. For a moment, Yasuo was unsure whether the woman had addressed him. When he realized that she had, he cleared his throat.

"Not that bad, actually. Kind of strong."

"That's good. Weak beer's the worst."

He chuckled. "That's true."

The woman waved the bartender over, and ordered the ale that Yasuo was drinking.

"Fill his up, while you're at it," she added, as the bartender turned to leave. With a grunt, the bartender obliged, and filled Yasuo's cup to the brim with more golden liquid.

"Thank you, stranger," he said appreciatively, taking a swing of his newly-filled tankard; Yasuo always liked a person who gave him free drinks, regardless of who they were. Several minutes passed in a comfortable sort of silence as they drank, but Yasuo felt he should at least try to make conversation with someone who had been so kind as to buy him a drink.

"What brings you here, stranger?" he asked her. The woman started, and she shifted her shadowed face to him. For a moment, Yasuo thought she was going to remain silent. He was expecting her to ignore his question, or tell him off, but instead, she answered.

"Just… trying to escape life for a little while."

Yasuo laughed darkly. "Aren't we all? Otherwise, there wouldn't be any bars." He took another drink. "And what a damn shame that would be."

"A shame indeed," said the woman, with a light chuckle. She took another drink of her own beer before voicing a question of her own. "And yourself, wanderer? What brings you to Talos?"

_**Wanderer**__. That's certainly fitting._

"Same as you. Just trying to escape for a little bit." He hesitated a moment. "Also… I'm looking for something. Something I've lost."

He had meant his sword, but as he said it, his words seemed to echo in his mind. _That's right… I'm lost. I'm lost and I'm looking for something that's not there._

"Aren't we all?" she muttered in a low voice at his side. "Just trying to find our way. Looking for someone that we loved but lost. Trying to forget the past, if only for a moment."

She raised her drink to her mouth again, and out of the corner of his eye, Yasuo saw that her left hand was wrapped in bandages. She finished the rest of her drink in a single drag, and stood away from the counter, leaving a small pile of coins. Yasuo tried to sneak a look at her face, but it was still cloaked in shadow.

"Good-bye, wanderer. Good luck finding what you're looking for," she said simply, turning away.

"You as well, stranger. I hope you find whoever you've lost. And many thanks for the drink."

She raised her left hand in farewell, and Yasuo watched her retreating figure disappear among the bodies of the tavern. Her words echoed in his head, as if they were ones he had heard before. Her voice was familiar, but he could not place it. It was as though he were speaking to himself from underwater; his words, yet garbled and distant.

Yasuo shook his head. _Whoever she is, it doesn't matter. She is nothing more than a stranger who bought me a drink._ But somehow, he did not believe his own words. He looked up at the clock with another sigh.

_It's going to be a long night._

* * *

Some hours later, Yasuo was still sitting at the counter, watching the clock when he felt another body take the place of where the woman had sat. He looked to his right, and was relieved to see the familiar bearded face of Toru.

"Took you long enough," he whispered under his breath as Toru bought a tankard of ale, drinking it gratefully.

"Talos isn't exactly the smallest of towns," he muttered back, his tankard clattering loudly onto the wooden surface of the counter. "You're more than welcome to try it by yourself."

"No, thank you. Did you find anything?"

Toru nodded. "I'll tell you later. Did anything happen while I was gone?"

Yasuo thoughts flickered back to the woman. "Not much. I had a drink with a woman, but that was it."

Toru grunted. "I hope it wasn't anything more than a drink."

"It wasn't. We talked some, then she left. Didn't even catch her name or what she looked like."

"Good. Now come on, the people we're looking for aren't in this bar."

Leaving what he owed for the drinks, Yasuo followed Toru out of the tavern.


	9. Chapter 7 and a half: A Chance Meeting

Chapter 7.5: A Chance Meeting

Riven walked out of the Curved Claw with her hood still pulled tightly over her head. She gave the tavern a backwards glance as the door closed behind her, silencing the noise from within. She stifled a yawn as she stepped out into the afternoon sun, raising a bandaged hand to her mouth. Today was one of her days off from the League, and she had taken the time to visit her friend Irelia. Irelia, on the days where she was also exempt from League matches, often returned to her native land of Ionia to spend time with her people and her friends.

Many, both within the confines of the Institute, and outside, found it strange that Riven spent so much time in Ionia. She had been, after all, one of the leading commanders for Noxus in their invasion of the peaceful country, and had slaughtered as many Ionians as any other soldier. It was true that on her first visits here, she had been subject to many angry glares and harsh, muttered words, some so hurtful that she had found herself reconsidering ever returning.

But Irelia had pressed her to remain, telling her that gradually, they would grow to accept her. And they had. Riven found something in Ionia that she had never found in Noxus: peace. Here, she knew the people would accept her, despite what she did, despite her past. Ionia was a nation of balance and harmony, not one of bitter grudges and painful words. People could grow to forgive here. It was not weakness, a word so many Noxians had shouted at her when she was at the Institute of War, but acceptance: the chance to admit one's faults and take the steps to begin to heal.

Riven still loved Noxus; she always had. But even she could see the poisonous, cancerous hate that spread throughout her beloved city, growing more malignant each day as people continued to hate, to fear, without ever considering letting go and moving on. It was still hard for her to let go of her past, but she saw that it was doing nothing to her but pain her. And she had to move on. Otherwise, she could never forgive herself.

Her thoughts were interrupted abruptly as a passerby bumped into her, his shoulder colliding with hers and sending her off balance. She stumbled slightly, but caught herself in time to prevent herself from falling.

"Well, excuse you!" she called angrily after the figure that had run into her; they did not so much as turn around. She muttered a few choice words under her breath, tightening her hood to make sure it had not slipped.

She had to remember: Talos was not like the rest of Ionia. Talos was like a part of Noxus that had been dropped into the island continent. Here, there were people just as untrustworthy as the dirtiest Noxian or Bilgewater pirate. She had to make sure that her identity was kept secret; although she had relative immunity by being a champion of the League, she knew that there were those who would still rather have her dead. It would be dangerous to show her face in such a place.

Avoiding meeting the eyes of the people she passed on the street, Riven began to make her way out of the city. Irelia had asked her to run some errands in Talos, and Riven had obliged, more than happy to help her friend. When she had finished, she had treated herself to a well-deserved drink, and as she walked, she found herself thinking of her drinking companion.

She had not gotten a good look at his face, but she felt she knew him from somewhere. Somewhere deep in her past. Or perhaps it was just what he had said that she found familiar. He seemed to be just as lost as her, looking for something that he himself seemed to know was not there.

_I'm not alone_, she thought sadly, _when it comes to being lost._ She would have liked to talk to him more, but it was too late now. Riven sighed as she stepped out of the gates of the city.

_Maybe some other time._


	10. Chapter 8: A New Lead

Chapter 8: A New Lead

The sun was close to setting when Yasuo and Toru stepped out of the tavern. Night had almost fallen, and the streets of Talos were dark and empty. The city seemed a different place; streets that had been flooding with people only hours ago were now empty and vacant. Their footsteps echoed in the quiet air as they made their way down the dark streets. On the edges of his vision, Yasuo could see shadowy figures hiding in the dark corners of the city, and he reminded himself not to lower his guard. Talos was a dangerous place.

He followed Toru as the older man walked purposefully down the dark streets; he seemed to know where he was going, and Yasuo followed. Slowly, they made their way deeper into the dark heart of the city, and the night seemed to grow heavier around them. Many of the buildings did not have any lights, and the darkness hung over them like a dense fog. Yasuo followed Toru as he walked quickly down winding passageways and narrow side-streets, not slowing in his pace.

Yasuo was about to ask him how far they were from their destination when Toru stopped suddenly. Yasuo looked around, but there was nothing of note to see. The dark walls of buildings rose like tombstones around him, and Yasuo was suddenly seized with an uncomfortable feeling.

_Why do I feel like this is an ambush? Why do I feel like I just got set up?_

His hand reached unconsciously for the handle to his sword before he remembered that it was not there. He took a silent step back away from Toru, who had not turned to face him and did not seem to notice him backing away.

_Shit. I have nowhere to run. I don't know where I am, or how to get out of here._

Suddenly, a voice cut through the night, hushed and quiet.

"Toru? Is that you?"

"Yes," replied Toru, just as noiselessly. He turned around to face Yasuo, and motioned for him to come closer. His suspicion abating, Yasuo let go of the breath he was holding. Although his heart still beat faster than normal, the uncomfortable pressure that had settled over his chest vanished.

How could he have thought that this man would betray him? Had Toru not already earned his trust? He had saved him, housed him, while all the while knowing the stranger he protected was dangerous. Yasuo felt sickened in himself; Toru had trusted him, and here he was, unable to return that faith.

_Where has my honor gone? _he asked himself morosely. He shook himself and with slow steps, he walked over to where Toru stood. For a moment, there was only silence. Then, with the sound of scuffling footsteps, a figure appeared out of the darkness, as if it were nothing more than a shadow itself.

But it was no shadow; it was a small man, with a balding scalp and a pinched face that was at the moment damp with worry. He clutched a cap tightly in his hands, twisting it so much that it resembled more a snake than anything.

"I hope you know how much trouble I could get in for this," he whispered hurriedly to Toru, his small dark eyes glancing around incessantly. "Customs officers aren't supposed to give out information. That's why it's classified!"

"I know, Mikah, and I thank you for taking the risk. But this is important. You know I wouldn't ask you if it weren't."

The man called Mikah did not reply, instead nodding dismissively. "I know, I know. Doesn't make me feel any better, though." He jumped slightly as his eyes fell on Yasuo, evidently noticing him for the first time. "Is this him?" he asked Toru, his eyes not moving from Yasuo.

Toru nodded. "Aye. This is the one. Now, can you tell us what you saw?"

Mikah cleared his throat. "Fine, fine. Sometime last week, a group of men came into the city, and they had with them the object you described. It was long, wrapped in cloth, and was quite heavy. I remember it because they absolutely refused to show me what it was."

"Then how did they get inside the city?" asked Yasuo.

Mikah merely licked his lips. "Well, uhh… they gave me a very handsome sum to simply look the other way."

Yasuo nodded slowly. _So he was bribed._

Toru cast a glance at Yasuo out of the corner of his eye before looking at Mikah again. "That doesn't matter now. What else can you tell us? How many people were in the group?"

"I'd say about 5 or 6. I don't know if they came in with others afterwards, or if they intended to meet others already in the city. But that's how many were there."

"Do you know what they were here for? Are they traders or craftsmen?"

Mikah gave a wheezy, uneasy sort of chuckle. "Craftsmen? Sure, they were a very specific sort of craftsmen." He swallowed. "They're bounty hunters. Dangerous men, they are. Covered in swords and knives and the like."

"How do you know?" asked Yasuo.

Mikah smiled weakly, but it did nothing more than to make him seem even greener with worry. "They were talking about it, weren't they? Right in front of me. Counting heads, so to speak."

"Hold on…" said Toru slowly. "You said they refused to show you what was in the cloth. But they showed you the rest of their swords?"

"Yes. I didn't understand it either. Obviously, at the time, I thought it was something a whole lot worse than a sword, didn't I? I wasn't about to ask any questions, either. Not when they had Noxians and Bilgewater pirates with them."

"Noxians?"

"Yeah. I recognized their tattoos and their way of talking. There's a lot of Noxians around here, and you pick up some things. Whether you want to or not."

Yasuo went silent, and beside him, Toru did the same. He could tell they were both thinking the same thing.

_This just got a whole lot more complicated. Bounty hunters, and Noxian ones, at that, are something I wouldn't want to deal with._

Mikah watched them as they stood in silence, his eyes flicking between the pair. "Is that it?" he asked finally. "Is that all you want to know? Because I really don't want to stay out here any longer than I have to."

"One more thing," asked Yasuo. Mikah looked unhappy as he turned to him. "Do you have any idea where they're going to be tomorrow? Or when they're leaving Talos?"

"I can do better than that," said the small man. "I can tell you where they're staying tonight."

* * *

Yasuo and Toru stopped before the dark doors of the Bent Knife Inn. The building was tall and as black as the night that surrounded it, the only lights visible from within those of guttering candles. The doors were scored with large gash marks that did nothing but add to his trepidation.

_Charming name_, he thought to himself. He looked at Toru, and saw that his own feelings of unease were mirrored on the old man's face.

"Are you sure we can trust this Mikah to tell us the truth?" he asked finally. Toru looked at him.

"Mikah might not be the most courageous of men, but I don't see why he'd lie," replied Toru, although he did not sound entirely convinced himself. Yasuo grunted, unable to completely mask his skepticism.

He took a deep breath before pressing a hand to the cold wood of the door. Slowly, he pushed it open. The room he entered was almost as dark as the night outside. The only meager source of light came from a solitary candle that stood on a counter at the opposite end of the room. Although he could not see them clearly, Yasuo could more than feel the presence of several other bodies, and felt the uncomfortable weight of their eyes on him. Looking straight ahead, he walked over the counter, with Toru following close behind.

The man at the counter was shrouded in shadow, and he looked at them as they stopped before him.

"May I help you?" he asked. The politeness of his words did little to mask the sharpness of his tone or the malice hidden behind his breath.

"A room," said Yasuo simply; he had more than enough experience dealing with unsavory characters such as the ones in this room, and had long since figured out how to deal with them: talk little, reveal even less.

The man nodded, and he leaned forward. "Payment?"

Wordlessly, Yasuo removed his coin purse from within his clothes, careful to keep it hidden from the prying eyes of the others in the room. He placed two coins on the counter, watching as the man took them and examined them in the dim light. With a satisfied grunt, he pocketed the coins and passed Yasuo a key.

"Last room on the right. Don't get it dirty."

Yasuo gave a frozen smile. _You mean, any dirtier than it already is._

"Not a problem," he said with a painfully obvious insincerity. The man scowled at him, but said nothing. Motioning for Toru to follow, he passed into the dark hallway that was to the right of the counter, all the while looking over his shoulder.

"Impressive, the way you handled that," said Toru when they had entered their room. It was just as Yasuo had expected: small, dark, and unpleasant smelling. There were two beds, each shoved roughly into opposite corners of the room. Yasuo lit the stubby candle that stood dejectedly on the single dresser; it had seen better days.

"Not really," said Yasuo with a shrug. "All these inn and tavern owners are all the same: lazy, greedy and corrupt. All you have to know is how to deal with them."

"That may be true, but even so. It takes some nerves to stare them down like that."

"When you've seen war, men like that don't scare you. It's the quiet ones you're afraid of," said Yasuo softly. Toru did not reply. Yasuo sat on the bed, somewhat surprised to see that it did not bend or groan under his weight.

"Might as well try to get some sleep," said Toru, and Yasuo showed his agreement by lying on the bed with his hands behind his head; there was no way in hell he was going to get under the covers. "We'll see if we can catch those bounty hunters tomorrow morning. But for now, I need some sleep."

"Good night, Toru."

"Good night, stranger."

The words between them extinguished as quickly as the dying candle.


	11. Chapter 9: My Sword, My Soul

Chapter 9: My Sword, My Soul

When Yasuo awoke the following morning, it was still dark. But it was not the darkness of the deep night; it was the darkness of the early morning, the darkness that seemed to signal the beginning of a new day, and the promise of change. He could smell the smoke of morning fires being lit, the musky scent hanging heavy in the air. Through the blinds of the window, he could see the first fingers of the sun beginning to reach across the pale morning sky.

On the bed next to his, Toru was still sound asleep, and Yasuo could hear him breathing, the sound steady. Yasuo swung his legs noiselessly over the edge of the bed, stifling a yawn as he did so. Stretching like a cat, he stepped nimbly out into the dark hallway of the inn. All around him, he could hear the sleeping sounds of the other patrons. Yasuo scratched his chin absentmindedly as he made his way to the main room of the inn. As he had expected, there was already someone at the bar, washing glasses with a grimy rag and straightening the bottles behind the counter. The room, although still dark, was more visible now, illuminated not only by the candles that were scattered across the tables, but also by the dim light of the rising morning sun.

He looked around at the other figures in the bar, returning the suspicious and sleepy glares they gave him. There was a woman sitting in a dark corner, cleaning her nails with a long, vicious looking knife, who gave him a venomous smile as he looked at her; there was a man, seated at the bar with a large hat drawn low over his face, sipping occasionally at the smoking drink he had in front of him; another man was seated at a nearby table, a large bag full of who-knows-what laying at his feet; a couple sat at a far-away table, talking in hushed tones over a bag of gold; another woman sat nearby where he stood, eating quickly from a plate of breakfast.

None of them matched the description of the group of bounty hunters that Mikah had given them.

Yasuo walked slowly over to the counter, aware that his perusal of the bar's inhabitants had probably garnered him much unwanted attention. He sat down on one of the stools, watching as the bartender walked over to him.

"What'll it be?" he asked gruffly, mechanically cleaning the glass he held in his hands.

"Surprise me."

The bartender scowled at him, but turned away to the selection of bottles behind him. When he turned to face Yasuo, he held a blood red drink in his hand, which he placed in front of Yasuo. Yasuo slid a coin over to the man, who pocketed it before turning away. Yasuo contemplated the drink for a long while, staring at the swirling depths of the red liquid. Raising it to his lips, he gagged as he took a long drink from the cup.

It was bitter, and burned his throat as he swallowed, making his head spin as if he had been held upside down for a day. He suppressed a cough, drawing an amused smirk from the bartender as he did so. It was several minutes before Yasuo drank again, slower than before. This time, he savored the drink, focusing on the taste behind the bitterness. Drinking it slower certainly gave it a different feel, and despite himself, Yasuo was impressed by the bartender's choice.

_Not bad,_ he thought to himself, _not bad at all._

He had nearly finished the drink when he felt someone sit down beside him. He looked to the right, meeting the familiar, albeit sleepy eyes of Toru.

"A drink? At this hour?" he asked him, the disdain obvious in his voice.

Yasuo shrugged. "Why not?"

Toru merely shook his head, waving away the bartender as he came close. He stifled a yawn with the back of his hand, shaking his head to wake himself further.

"Any luck on finding our bounty hunters?" he muttered under his breath, so low that only Yasuo could hear.

Yasuo shook his head slightly; to anyone else, it would have been an almost undetectable movement. "Not yet. But I don't exactly think they'd be the type to wake up early."

Toru merely grunted in response. "Well, I doubt we're going to have much luck waiting around in here. No sense in staying any longer."

Yasuo agreed with a nod of his head; it would be better to wait for the bounty hunters outside, where they would be able to follow them without drawing suspicion. Together, they stood up from the bar, and made their way to the door. As they stepped outside, Yasuo felt the unmistakable weight of eyes on his back, and he turned around slightly. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted who was watching him: the man with the bag at his feet had one eye trained on him, the other closed and shrouded in darkness.

His gaze never left Yasuo, even as he disappeared out into the morning gloom.

* * *

Yasuo and Toru leaned against the dark wall of an alleyway opposite the Bent Knife, watching the door. The sun had risen more now, and the streets of the city were filled with a dim, hazy morning light. They had been watching the door for close to three hours now, with no further luck or insight into the group of Noxian bounty hunters.

Yasuo yawned loudly, unable to stop the impulse that came over him; he was still sleepy. The beds of the Bent Knife had not been the most comfortable, and he felt the sting of sleep prick at his eyes. Beside him, Toru leaned against the wall of the alleyway, watching the door intently.

_Who was this man, to search for my sword as if it were his? As if _he _had been the one to cut down his brother? It's not worth anything to him, yet he searches for it as if it were his child. A man, who by all means, should not be honorable… _

He watched the old man, his mind filled with muddled memories of swords and honor. And as he did so, he could not stop his eyes from closing, and his head lolled, darkness descending over his vision…

* * *

"_Yasuo!" came Yone's voice, sudden and loud in his ear. Yasuo's eyes snapped open, and he looked around in confusion. He was in his old room in the sword school again, and Yone was looking down at him with an excited expression on his face. _

Why was he so excited?

_His question was answered almost immediately: "Yasuo, get up! Today's the day we get our swords!" _

_At his brother's words, Yasuo felt a current of excitement shoot throughout his body: _he had forgotten._ He leapt out of his bed, all traces of exhaustion gone. Even though he was a young man, that did little to stop him from feeling like a child being given a toy sword to play with for the first time. The presenting of a sword was something was only granted to the most promising of students, and the two brothers had been selected for such an honor. _

_Yasuo dressed quickly, doing little to try to straighten his unkempt hair, and instead choosing to tie it back into a long ponytail. Yone stood, waiting for his younger brother. At last, when he had straightened his clothes and met his brother's eyes, Yasuo grinned. Yone returned the smile, and the two brothers stepped quickly out of the room. Their footsteps were hurried down the wooden halls of the sword school as they ran quickly to the council room._

_The seven masters of the sword school were waiting for them as they entered the council room. Yasuo and Yone bowed low to the masters before kneeling in front of a long wooden box before them. The masters knelt in a semicircle around them, their faces grave and impassive. It was an impressive scene. Yasuo's hands gripped his knees, but he could not stop them from shaking in excitement. Beside him, Yone was as calm as ever. Though he would never tell him, he was jealous of Yone's tranquility: it was something he could never have. He was, and had always been, eager and impulsive and as untamable as the wind itself. _

_He was shaken from his contemplation as one of the masters called their names. _

"_Yasuo. Yone." _

_Yasuo looked up; beside him, Yone did the same._

"_You two brothers have exceeded all of our expectations. You have proved that you can be as swift as a river, as immovable as a mountain, as forgiving as a child, and yet as piercing as the sharpest sword. It is not often that we find such qualities in our students. Especially in brothers so vastly different as yourselves."_

_Yasuo caught the look Yone gave him out of the corner of his eye, and returned the grin. _

"_As such, the seven masters of the temple have decided to grant you the highest honor we can bestow: a blade of your own."_

_One of the masters nodded, and an aide rushed forward, undoing the latches to the wooden box and opening the lid. Yasuo inhaled sharply as he beheld the silhouettes of the deadly swords within. Although they were wrapped in delicate cloth, their beauty was undeniable._

_The seven masters stood, and their gazes were piercing as they looked down the two brothers. _

"_Do you understand what these swords entail?" they spoke in unison, and Yasuo shivered at the weight of their voices. "These swords are not mere blades to kill and cut with. They are a code of honor, a way of life. A promise to defend the weak, the defenseless, and the helpless. If you should ever forget that, should ever lose your way, these swords will not aid you. They will cast you aside and forget you even as you have forgotten yourself. For they will be your closest companion. They will be your heart and your soul."_

"_Yone! Step forward."_

_Yasuo watched as his brother stood, and walked, trance-like, towards the box. One of the masters drew the shorter of two swords from within, placing it gently in Yone's hands. Yasuo could see his brother's hands shake as he gripped the sword; it was simple and unadorned, the handle expertly tailored to his hands. Yone ran his hand slowly over the wood of the sheath before gripping the handle tightly in one hand. He took a deep breath, pulling the blade out slowly. The metal shimmered like the water of a river, glimmering and glistening in the light of the council room. The sword suited his brother well; it was plain, simple, and humble, as he was._

"_Yasuo!" _

_Yasuo stood on shaking knees and walked over beside his brother. Another of the masters lifted the sword gently, placing it in his hands. Yasuo almost staggered as he did. It was as though the sword had been waiting for him all his life; the weight in his palms felt as though it had always been there, and when Yasuo gripped the wrapped handle, it was like his hand had been missing something his entire life. The cross-guard was intricately designed, with a pattern of metal that looked like the swirling wind. Razor thin markings, like the touches of wind, ran along the edge of his scabbard. Slowly, with shaking hands, he pulled the blade from its sheath. _

_Its beauty was breathtaking; it was the moonlight on a dark night, it was the wind that howled in a hurricane, it was the river that ran through the mountains. The blade sang to him, eager to be used and to be loved. _

_He fell slowly to his knees, unable to remain standing any longer. The swirling lights of the blade mesmerized him, and he lost himself in the hypnotic patterns. This blade was him, and it would never be anything else. It would be his path to honor. _

_It would be his soul._


	12. Chapter 10: Reunion

Chapter 10: Reunion

"Wanderer! Wanderer, wake up!"

Toru's voice was urgent in Yasuo's ear, and he opened his eyes suddenly, blinking blearily against the bright afternoon sun. Although he had fallen asleep leaning against the alley wall, he was dangerously close to falling over. He caught himself before he did so, straightening as he looked around wildly. Next to him, hidden by the alley wall, Toru was staring intently at the tavern door, an expression of scrutiny on his lined face. Yasuo followed his gaze, and he felt his heart jump with anticipation.

A large group had exited the tavern, and was standing just outside the door; some were stretching, some stifling yawns, others adjusting the weapons that hung from their sides. They were most definitely bounty hunters.

"Is it them?" asked Yasuo under his breath.

"They certainly match the description Mikah gave us," replied Toru, keeping his eyes trained on the group. "And that one has some very distinct tattoos."

Yasuo looked at the man that Toru meant: he seemed to be the leader of the group, with a large, heavy set body, and a shaved head that looked like a bullet. A large, black tattoo covered the right side of his face and neck, stretching like a snake down the taut skin. Yasuo could see the glint of earrings hanging from his right ear.

But he was hardly looking at the man's features; his eyes were trained on something else entirely: the long object that the man held in his hands. Although it was wrapped in cloth, the shape was obvious. Yasuo felt his knuckles whiten as he clenched the edge of the alleyway.

_That's my sword._

"That's definitely him," said Yasuo through gritted teeth. "And he's holding my sword."

"Are you sure?"

"No. But I have a hell of a hunch."

Toru gave a grunt of dark amusement. "Fair enough." He cast his eyes around the empty streets of Talos. "We'll wait until they leave, then we'll follow them. Hopefully, we'll be able to get your sword back without much trouble."

Yasuo did not reply. His eyes were still on the man who held his sword.

* * *

It was several more minutes before the group of bounty hunters finally left the vicinity of the tavern, and they moved slowly down the still empty streets of Talos. Giving the group a wide berth, Yasuo and Toru walked slowly behind them. They kept the same pace as the bounty hunters, walking slow enough to stay unnoticed, but not enough to lose sight of the group. They traced the footsteps of the group, making their way out of the winding alleyways of the inner city.

The sun had risen higher now, and the early morning fog that had hung over the city began to dissipate. More people were beginning to walk out into the streets, milling about in the early afternoon sun. Yasuo kept close behind the group of bounty hunters, his eyes never leaving the back of the one who held his sword. Beside him, Toru walked quickly to match his pace, and they weaved their way through the growing crowds of the city. The crowds were thicker now, and several times, Yasuo found himself momentarily losing track of the group he was following.

Quite suddenly, their surroundings changed. The street that they had been walking on opened to a sort of town square, complete with large fountain in the center. Yasuo blinked for a moment, looking around. Just as suddenly as the change in scenery, the group of bounty hunters had vanished.

It was another moment before Toru appeared at his side, puffing slightly. "Where are they?" he asked breathlessly.

"I don't know. I think we lost them."

"You'd like to think that, wouldn't you?" came a sudden voice in Yasuo's ear, low and deadly. Yasuo felt himself shoved harshly forward, and he stumbled roughly onto his knees. His palms scraped against the coarse bricks of the town square, and he felt the skin tear. Before he could do anything else, a hand clamped down on his hair with an iron grip, pulling him towards the fountain. He took only a momentary gasp of air before he was shoved face first into the cold water.

He struggled against the hand that held him, but several more grabbed his arms and pinned them behind his back. His yells came as gurgled sounds as he screamed soundlessly into the water. His vision blurred in the murky water, and his lungs felt as if they were on fire. Just when he thought he could hold his breath no longer, he was pulled out of the water. He coughed violently, retching out the water he had inhaled.

Out of his waterlogged eyes, he could see the blurred figures of the bounty hunters gathered around him in a semicircle. Beyond them, he could see the frightened faces of the citizens of Talos as they made no move to interfere. To his left, he thought he saw the outline of Toru, also being restrained by a pair of bounty hunters, his arms twisted behind his back.

It was obvious now what happened. _We were ambushed. They knew we were following them all along. How could I have been so stupid?_

Strong arms grabbed his own and lifted him, holding them in place as he was hauled unceremoniously to his feet. His face snapped to one side and his vision flashed dizzyingly as a fist connected harshly with the left side of his face. Rough fingers gripped his face and turned his face back forward, and he found himself looking into the cruel eyes of the man with the large tattoo.

"What have we here?" he breathed, his breath hot and foul in Yasuo's face. He twisted Yasuo's head from side to side, looking at him from all angles.

"Just… just a wanderer who's lost his way," coughed Yasuo.

"And were you trying to 'find your way' by following us?" asked the man with a sneer.

"No."

Another punch to the cheek and Yasuo's head was sent spinning again.

"_Bullshit._ Don't lie to me, scum. You were following us. Why? You two bounty hunters?"

"No."

"'No'? Is that all you can say?"

"N- We… we wer-," Yasuo could not find the words to say. On the one hand, he could not reveal his identity, but on the other, he would not place Toru in danger.

"You have something of his," said Toru loudly. The man turned, an expression of surprise crossing his face.

"What did you say?"

"You have something of his that we're looking for."

"Are you calling me a liar?" asked the man in a dangerously calm voice, taking a step towards Toru.

"Im not calling you anything. I'm just sayi-,"

Toru doubled over with a cough as the man struck him viciously in the stomach. Another thud, and Toru's head snapped to one side as the man struck him across the cheek.

"Stop!" shouted Yasuo angrily. He would not stand to have him hurt. "Stop!"

"You want me to stop? Then tell me what you were really doing following us!"

"A sword!" said Yasuo sharply. The man blinked. "There was a sword you found, wasn't there? In the forest around these parts?"

The man seemed to catch himself, and he grinned. "And so what if I did?"

"It's mine. I lost it."

"A sword is a pretty big thing to lose."

"I was sick. I didn't know what I was thinking. I left in the forest, near a tree."

The man watched him for a moment, and then he extended a hand to his gang of hunters. One of the other bounty hunters placed the long wrapped sword in his outstretched hand, and he examined it close before his face.

"Is this what you're looking for?" he asked.

Yasuo nodded. He knew that the man would not give up the sword so easily, but it would not hurt to try.

The bounty hunter took an intimidating step forward, leaning in close to Yasuo. "Do you want to know what I think? I think you're a liar. A liar, and maybe even a thief." He looked at the wrapped sword closer now, a glint of greed in his eye. "And I bet there's a pretty important someone who would pay big money to have this back."

"There's no one to give it back to. It's mine," said Yasuo through gritted teeth.

The man opened his mouth to reply, but before he could, one of the other bounty hunters whispered urgently:

"Boss! Are you sure you want to do this here?"

Yasuo looked around, even as the man did. The Ionian crowd was watching them with different eyes now; their eyes were not so fearful, and quite the opposite: they seemed almost angry at the group of bounty hunters. It may have just been part of his imagination, but Yasuo thought the circle around them may have tightened, and many of the bounty hunters had apprehensive looks on their faces.

The man gave another contemptuous sneer. "Looks like you can't even defend yourself on your own. You need an old man and a crowd around you."

He moved forward suddenly, his forehead colliding with Yasuo's nose. Yasuo felt blood spurt from his nostrils, and he clutched his nose with his hands, eyes watering in pain.

"I'll give you back your sword. But only if you get on your knees and bow."

Yasuo looked at him through watery eyes. Over the man's shoulder, he could see Toru, his face bloodied and bruised, still held firmly between two bounty hunters. Yasuo closed his eyes, one hand still on his nose.

He was a hurricane of emotions. All his life, he had been taught the path to honor. The path that, no longer what one faced, they would meet it face on with a head held high. No samurai would ever bend or bow, lest they would risk falling into dishonor. And without honor, they would be nothing.

But now it was different. Now, Toru was in danger because of him. Never before had he questioned his honor. Always, he had followed it closely, to the point of being blind to any other options.

_But is that right here? Is it right that I allow an innocent man to suffer because of my own path to honor? One that has already been stained and sullied?_

_No._

Slowly, Yasuo fell to his knees. Placing his hands palm down on the cobbled street, he rested his forehead on the back of his hands; the Ionian way to show respect. He knelt for several moments, before he heard – and felt – the man spit on the back of his head.

"You Ionians disgust me," he said, his voice leaden with hatred. "Always bowing. Always bending. Never standing up for themselves. Sometimes I wonder if you have a spine at all. _Weak._"

He heard his sword clatter to the ground with a harsh, ringing sound, loud even through the cloth. Yasuo heard the man's footsteps recede, but he did not look up. It was several more moments before the ambient conversation returned fully, and when Yasuo knew that the crowd around them had gone. It was then that he stood once more. He stepped quickly past his sword, instead walking to the spot where Toru lay prone.

He helped the old man up gently, letting him place his weight on his shoulders.

"Your… your sword?" asked Toru painfully, wincing as he stood fully.

"It is just a sword. I would rather die a thousand times than lose my honor by letting my friend get hurt."

Toru gave him a smile that was more a grimace of pain than anything. "Even so, it would be bad if we went through all this trouble and didn't get what we wanted, eh?"

He walked slowly and cautiously over to where the sword laid abandoned, picking it up and handing it to Yasuo. As he gripped the familiar handle of his sword, Yasuo let go of the breath he did not know he was holding. He took an unsteady breath to stop himself from shaking, holding the sword tightly.

He had it back now. Everything was fine again.


	13. Chapter 11: Farewell

Chapter 11: Farewell

Yasuo's hand was tight on his sword, enough to whiten his kn uckles. He had tied it to his waist once more, but that did not stop him from keeping a firm grip on the handle. He still felt a bit shaky from his encounter with the bounty hunters, and was using a rag he had bought to stem the last of the bleeding from his nose. Gingery, he removed the rag, touching the bridge of his nose lightly to make sure that nothing had broken. When he was satisfied that it was fine, he looked around at his surroundings.

He was in another tavern, sitting in a far corner of the crowded room. There was a large tankard of ale and a bowl of hot soup in front of him. This time, however, he was alone. Toru was nowhere to be seen, and Yasuo knew that he would not see the man again. Again, like he had so many other times in travels, he realized that he was truly alone.

He studied the swirling patterns in the froth of the beer, idly stirring his soup with his spoon. Toru had already set off on the journey back to his home, and Yasuo found himself thinking of his final conversation with the old man.

* * *

"Are you sure you don't want to come back for one more night?" asked Toru, eying Yasuo skeptically as he held the recently purchased rag to his bleeding nose. They were sitting on a bench in one of the few parks that Talos had. Around them, a small section of trees seemed to have been cut out from the surrounding forest and dropped into the bustling city. Over the tops of the trees around him, Yasuo could still see the dark black shapes of rising buildings.

"You and your family have done so much for me already. There is no need for me to return only to place an even larger burden on you and your wife." Yasuo's voice was thick as he held the rag to his nose, tilting his head back to prevent further blood loss.

"You are no burden, stranger," reassured Toru.

Yasuo shook his head as well as he could. "Regardless. I would feel dishonored if I invaded even more into your family's fortune without doing anything in return. You have done much for me. You saved my life, you housed me, and you risked your life for a stranger who gave you nothing in return. There is no need to do anything more. I am forever in your debt."

Toru remained quiet. Finally, he said, with a chuckle, "I don't imagine there's any way I would convince you otherwise, eh?"

Yasuo grinned over the rag on his face. "Even if you tried, I'd still say no."

Toru sighed, running a hand through his peppered hair. "Well… I can't say I'm surprised. It was going to happen sooner or later. Everyone's path continues and leads on, whether we want it to or not."

Yasuo did not reply, his eyes still looking up at the sky above him. Toru was right. His journey would never stop, no matter how much he wanted it to. Only when he found the truth could he begin to slow his march towards his destiny. When he found it, then he would forge his own path. But until then, he felt as if he were a leaf lost in a monsoon, torn to pieces and at the mercy of where the gale would throw him.

The silence between the two companions stretched on, but it was not a completely unwelcome one; it was a silence of unspoken understanding and of a silent farewell. Yasuo felt his eyes prickle with tears, but told himself it was because he was looking up at the sky.

"Well," said Toru finally, placing his hands on his knees as he stood, "The long goodbyes are the bitterest goodbyes." Beside him, Yasuo stood as well, his sword rattling at his side. He met the old man's gaze evenly, and they watched each other for some time. Then Toru cleared his throat, and he extended a bag that he pulled from his side.

"Here, take this."

Yasuo took the bag, weighing it in his palm. It was undoubtedly full of gold. Not a lot, but still a respectable amount. He looked up at Toru, intent on protesting.

"No. I can't. I can't accept this," he began.

Toru held up a hand to silence him. "Please. I insist."

Yasuo hesitated for a moment longer, but, seeing the expression on Toru's face, he tucked the small bag away into his travelling pack. When he was sure he had placed it securely along with his other meager travelling items, he looked back at Toru. The old man was watching him with a fatherly expression. Yasuo felt his throat tighten.

"Why… why did you do all of this for me?" he asked again, his voice low. He had asked himself the same question so many times, hoping to find an answer himself. But he had not. No matter how hard he tried, he could not understand why Toru acted as he did.

"It's what anyone would do."

Yasuo remained silent. He was silent because he knew that was not true. Not everyone would risk sacrificing what they had for the good of a stranger.

"…And if it's not what anyone would do, then it's what I would do," added Toru slowly. "It doesn't really matter to me what others think of me. Whether they think me a fool for helping you, or as a greedy man hoping to make a profit off of an unlucky passerby, I don't really care. What matters to me is what I feel for myself. If I left you out there to die in that storm, well… a part of me would have died out there with you. If I knew that I left an innocent man to die because of fear, I could never forgive myself. To me, it's not what others think that is important. It is what I _know_ to be true that truly matters to me."

It was as though Toru had taken a looking glass into Yasuo's soul. _It's not what everyone thinks of me. Whether they think of me as a monster who killed his brother, his mentor, his friends, or a coward who runs to survive. It is the fact that I know if I were to let my brother's death have been in vain, I could never forgive myself. _

"Thank you… for everything," said Yasuo finally, and his voice was thicker than he would have liked. "For all that you did for me. I needed this."

Toru nodded slowly. He extended a hand, and was taken aback when Yasuo embraced him, pulling him into a one-armed hug. Hastily wiping away a trace of moisture from his eye, Yasuo stepped back from Toru. The old man had the beginnings of tears in his own eyes, and was smiling gently.

"Good-bye, stranger," he said, beginning to turn away. Yasuo stopped him with a hand on his shoulder.

"My name…" he hesitated, inhaling deeply, "…it is Yasuo."

For a moment, Toru's expression was one of incomprehension. Then, slowly, understanding dawned on his face. His expression unreadable, he gave a slow nod.

"I see."

"I was not the one who killed my mentor, Toru. Believe what else you will about me, but know that I would never do such a thi-," his tone was pleading, urgent.

"I believe you."

Yasuo blinked. "You do?"

"Of course. I stand by what I told you before; I trust you to be an honorable man. I do not believe that you are the type of man who would do such a thing." He placed his own hand on Yasuo's shoulder. "Just promise me this: promise me that you'll find your way without having to hurt anyone else. Promise me that when you find the man who did this to you, you treat him with the same honor that you have lived by all your life."

Yasuo nodded quickly, "I will. I promise you. Please tell your family who I was, so that they know the truth about me as well."

"I will. Good-bye, Yasuo."

And like that, he had gone.

* * *

Yasuo blinked; startled out of the sleep he did not know he had fallen into. He rubbed a hand blearily into his eyes, rolling his neck and wincing at the cracking sounds. He looked around: the audience of the tavern bar had diminished somewhat, and the noise level had fallen drastically. Outside, through a frosted glass window, he could see the pale orange fire of the setting sun.

In front of him, the soup had grown cold, and the beer had grown stale. With a sigh, he pushed them away from him and placed his face in his hands. He was tired. Leaving what he owed, Yasuo stood and slowly make his way to the back of the tavern, where he had been told the rooms were. Searching in his pocket for the key he had been given, he stopped in front of the door marked, "8." He fumbled with the lock for some time before he finally managed to get the door open. Yasuo stumbled to the plain bed, falling to the covers without so much as changing his clothes or taking off his shoes. He sighed against the covers, closing his eyes.

_Tomorrow_, he thought sleepily, _my journey begins anew. Not that I'm any closer to finding what I'm looking for… but maybe I'll finally have more luck. _


	14. Chapter 12: Danger

Chapter 12: Winds of the Hurricane

Something woke Yasuo. For several moments, he lay in bed, blinking away the sleep that clung to him. His mind was foggy, and dimly, he wondered what had awakened him. He looked around with his eyes from where he lay prone. The room was still dark, and the open window squeaked quietly in the night breeze.

He froze. _I didn't open the window._

It was as if a lightning bolt had struck him; all traces of drowsiness vanished like the wind, and his senses were instantly on high alert. Keeping his breathing as level as he could, Yasuo looked motionlessly around the room for any intruders. And then he saw what had awoken him.

It was a dark shape, more a shadow than anything, which stood over his bed. As far as he could tell, the figure had its back to him and was looking quietly around the room. Yasuo's hand tightened at his side, wrapping around the handle of his blade, which he had fallen asleep holding. The figure continued to look around the room, squatting down while it inspected the room.

The figure seemed horribly misshapen, with a back that was large and malformed. As silently as he could, Yasuo swung his legs over the bed, drawing his sword.

At the sound of the sliding steel, the figure turned. But it was not fast enough. Yasuo swung, the blade singing through the air towards the figure's face. With an almost preternatural reaction, it threw itself to one side, narrowly avoiding the sharp edge of the sword. Yasuo lost no time in standing, planting his foot on the fallen figures side and leveling his blade at its face.

"Don't move," he growled. Keeping his blade firmly at the figures throat, he lit the bedside lamp with one hand. A dim light filled the room as the candle sputtered to life. By the pale light of the candle, Yasuo looked at the intruder.

A fearful face looked up at him, thin and gaunt, with a trace of dirty stubble. He seemed to be somewhat young, but in the dim light, Yasuo could not tell. He had a dark band of cloth wrapped around his face, completely obscuring his right eye. His dark blond hair was dirty, and pulled into a ponytail that looked like a snake, coiled and ready to strike. In the back of his mind, Yasuo registered him as the one who had watched him as he left the Bent Knife Inn.

"Don't hurt me!" he said, raising his right hand in pleading. He tried to sit up, but Yasuo pressed his blade to his neck.

"I said, _don't move_."

The young man swallowed, watching the sword apprehensively.

"Who the hell are you and why do you want to kill me?"

"My name- my name is Lizard, and-," he began quickly.

"'Lizard'?" said Yasuo, cutting him off, "What kind of a name is that? Is that the one you were given, or one you gave yourself?"

"It's- it's the name I go by now."

Yasuo snorted. _Lizard, indeed._ Using his sword to prompt Lizard, he forced him into a sitting position, his back firmly against the wall.

"So. Now I know your name. Tell me: why did you want to kill me?"

"I didn't want to kill you! I mean, I still don't!"

"Then what are you doing?"

"I was looking for you. I've been looking all yesterday and now I've found you. Listen, we don't have much tim-," he spoke quickly and urgently.

"Wait, wait, hold on. You were looking for me? Why?"

"I'm a bounty hunter, but-,"

"So you _were_ trying to kill me."

"No! Will you listen? Yes, I'm a bounty hunter, but I'm not hunting you! I've been on the trail of that group of bounty hunters that you ran into yesterday."

"A bounty hunter who kills bounty hunters? Sounds suspicious."

"Well, bounty hunters aren't exactly the best of people. Most, if not all of them, are just as bad as the people they hunt down. But that's not the point. What's important is that you listen to me."

Yasuo remained silent for a moment, contemplating. Although he had no reason to trust this man, he had no reason to _distrust_ him. Other than the fact that he had tried to kill him, of course. Besides, he had his sword tightly trained on the man. If he tried to attack him, Yasuo would have the immediate advantage.

"Fine. I'll listen to you. But if you try anything funny, I will end you."

The man's face flooded with relief. "Don't worry, I won't. Like I said, we don't have much time. That group of bounty hunters you ran into yesterday, they mean trouble. Their leader, the guy with the tattoos, was a former Noxian commander who never got the gall to man up and go back to Noxus. His name's Bakh, and he's mean. I've been on his trail, since he's wanted for a whole lot more murders than those he's collected bounties on."

"So why does this matter?"

"He's going to kill him! The guy you were travelling with! He's going to find him and kill him!"

Yasuo felt as though someone had run ice water down his spine.

"What did you say?"

"Bakh means to find that man, and he means to kill him. That's what he does whenever someone crosses him! I was looking for you all yesterday because I wanted to warn you. I was asking around until someone told me that you looked for a room here."

"And how did you plan to find me? Wait until I woke up?"

Lizard cleared his throat. "Uh… No. That's why I broke in here. If I waited until morning… I don't think he'd have much of a chance."

"So your plan was to break into my room in the middle of night? And hope that I _wouldn't_ try to kill you? What kind of a plan is that?"

Lizard looked at his knees, his expression meek. "In retrospect… not a very good one. But it was all I could think of. Listen, I know you might not trust me, but you have to believe me. I have my own reasons for wanting to hunt down Bakh. If I can save a life in the process, then all the better."

"Huh. A considerate bounty hunter. How do I know you're not with them, and are just using me to find out where he lives? How do I know you don't plan to kill me the moment I show you?"

"Please, you have to trust me."

Yasuo watched him for a moment more, debating with himself. _I am willing to potentially place Toru's life in danger for this man? Can I trust him – or myself?_ _What if he's telling the truth and something happens?_

He wrestled with himself internally, gnashing his teeth. He would have to trust this man. He would rather risk having to fight this man than place his friend in danger. If the worst came, he would have to duel him. Decided at last, Yasuo knelt down, meeting the man's eyes levelly. When he spoke, his voice was low and dangerous. "If you're lying, know this: I don't care where you are, or how fast you run, I _will _find you."

Lizard nodded quickly. "No problem," he said nervously. Yasuo kept his gaze on him for several more moments before he stood. Sheathing his sword, he held out a hand to Lizard. The man took it, pulling himself to his feet.

"How long ago did you see them?" he asked curtly. If what this man said was true, he was not going to risk wasting any time. Every minute meant a greater risk of Toru being placed in danger. And if this man _was_ lying, there would be no backlash in going to make sure Toru was alright.

Lizard stood, rolling his shoulders. Yasuo noticed that it was not his back that was deformed; he carried a large bag slung over his back – the one he had seen him with in the Bent Knife. Lizard's clothes were worn to say the least. He wore a faded vest held together with what looked like twine, and a pair of torn pants that scarcely reached down to his ankles. He had on a cloak that only served to cover the left side of his body, so that Yasuo could see neither his left arm nor the left side of his torso. He _could_, however, see the sword that hung from his right hip.

"Late last night. If I had to guess, about 3 or 4 hours ago. Maybe even 2, I don't know. I lost track of time."

"We had better get moving then. That's not enough time at all."


	15. Author's Note

Hey guys, Tahimikamaxtli here. I haven't really introduced myself (and I don't really plan to either, so that's not what this is about) but there is something that I want to clear up. I'm not going to go on a hiatus or anything, but I want to address it.

Some of you guys have asked me when I am going to put Riven in so let me answer that; pretty soon, actually. You can probably tell by now, but I'm a guy who likes to set things up. I like to take my time, even if that is a looooooooooong time. Even though I love reading stories that get right into the action, that's not my style. So, yeah, this story might seem a little long-winded, and though it might seem like it's going to take a long time to get to the real stuff (because, honestly, it probably will) rest assured, it will get there eventually. But I try to write a story that I like, and usually, those are long ones…

So for all you guys who have stayed with me this far, I love you guys. Seriously. I appreciate the support you guys have shown me in staying so long with this story. It's you guys that keep me writing this, and I will try my absolute best to write a story that you guys love.

So with that, peace. The next update shouldn't be too long; maybe another week or two at the most. Until next time.


	16. Chapter 13: Winds of the Hurricane

Chapter 13: Winds of the Hurricane

Yasuo walked out of the inn behind Lizard; he did not trust the bounty hunter enough to keep him out of sight. The sky was still dark as they exited, but he knew it was only a matter of time before morning light began to shine. Their footsteps were urgent on the empty streets, and the noise echoed in the city. Moving swiftly, they arrived at the entrance to Talos in no time; the tall arch loomed over them as they neared it.

That was when it struck Yasuo, and he stopped, halting in his tracks: _How would Bakh know how to find Toru? He didn't know where he lived._

Lizard had walked several more steps before he seemed to notice that Yasuo had stopped. Stopping as well, he turned to face him, cloak fluttering.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"How would Bakh know where to find Toru?" asked Yasuo slowly, a feeling of suspicion stealing over him. His hand strayed to the handle of his sword as Lizard looked confused. Then understanding dawned over his face, and his eyes flickered to Yasuo's sword, his own hand falling preemptively to his blade.

"Someone told him," he said, taking an uneasy step backwards. "I don't know his name, but I think he was a merchant. Or a customs officer, or something."

Yasuo's hand stopped before the hilt of his sword. _Mikah._ He grit his teeth angrily. _That little coward._

"Did he have a big hat?" asked Yasuo through clenched teeth.

Lizard nodded quickly, seeming desperate to explain. "Yeah. Kind of looked like a rat."

"I know exactly who he is. And where to find him. Once we deal with Bakh, I'm coming back to teach him a lesson."

"Uhh…" Lizard swallowed audibly. "I'm not too sure that's going to happen."

"Why not?" asked Yasuo angrily. _Does he think that Mikah can fight me?_

"He's dead. Bakh killed him."

Yasuo blinked in a sudden surprise. "Dead?" he echoed.

Lizard nodded. "I, uhh… I saw it happen. Bakh beat him until he told him where the man lived, then he slit his throat."

"And you didn't do anything to stop him?" asked Yasuo angrily. How could anyone be so dishonorable? Even he – a dishonored, disgraced samurai – would make the effort to protect all those he could. Nothing could take away the honor he held in himself.

"I couldn't!" snapped Lizard, suddenly angry as well. "You saw how many there were! Do you really think _I _would be able to fight them all?" With his right hand, he swung his cloak behind his back; where there should have been a left arm, there was nothing.

"I don't know if you can see, but I'm not exactly in the best of shapes!"

Yasuo opened his mouth to reply, but then he closed it again, his harsh words dying in his throat. A feeling of guilt and embarrassment lit inside of him.

_He only has one arm? How is he a bounty hunter? _

Yasuo shook his head to clear his thoughts. There was no use in arguing any longer; if this Bakh was ruthless enough to kill Mikah in cold-blood that just meant Toru was in even graver danger.

"Fine. It doesn't matter. Let's keep moving."

Lizard's expression was hard as he swung his cloak back over the left side of his body. They quickened their pace, moving swiftly out of the low walls of Talos. An low ominous rumble came from the sky above, and Yasuo looked up. He could see dark grey clouds beginning to grow overhead; there was another storm coming – he could feel it.

* * *

The storm clouds had grown in size and darkened in color as Yasuo and Lizard ran nimbly through the forest. They had been running nonstop for over an hour now, and Yasuo's legs ached from weakness and fatigue. He was used to running, but not like this. It had been a long time before he had run like his life depended on it. There were constant rumbles from the sky above, and Yasuo felt small raindrops falling every so often on his face. Each one only added to the growing pit of unease in his stomach.

The forest around them was growing darker with every passing minute – the clouds above had cut off the sun completely. The encroaching darkness gave him a chill; not because he was afraid of the dark, but because it seemed to signal even darker intentions.

A sudden lightning flash from overhead illuminated the shadowy forest, and the trees around were momentarily displayed in a ghostly white light. It looked as if they were caught in time, the lightning flash reflecting off their pale leaves. As it did, it revealed the dark silhouette of a house.

_Toru_, thought Yasuo as they neared the house. There was no light from within, and the only sounds around him were those of the forest. Even with those sounds around him, it felt deathly quiet. Yasuo's footfalls were heavy as he slowed to a jog. His feet disturbed the puddles of water that had formed on the ground before him, and in the dark light, they looked like blood pooling around him. His knees shook only partly from exhaustion as a heavy, sinister feeling fell over his heart.

_It can't be. No, no, no, no. _His mind ran through the words – pleading, hoping – incessantly. There was another lightning flash, and the boom of thunder was like the cackle of a demon. The house was completely silent as he neared, and the door swung slowly on broken hinges.

"I wouldn't go in there if I were you," called Lizard from behind him.

Yasuo ignored him, leaving him standing near the forest path as he walked slowly closer to the house. Each step felt like lead, and he placed a numb hand on the broken door. Slowly, with a horrible slowness, the door swung open.

There were no lights on inside, and he was surrounded by a consuming darkness. He stopped in the entrance of the door, unable to take another step further. He could hear his breathing, and it was heavy and inconstant. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he thought he could see figures slumped across the table before him.

Then there was another lightning flash and the nightmare was real.

Toru and his wife lay motionless and unmoving over the table. He did not need to see the blood pooling at their feet to know that they were gone. Yasuo stumbled backwards, falling against the wall beside the door.

"No, no, no, no, no…" The words came out, endless and unbroken. Tearing his eyes away, he looked around the empty house. He spotted another figure slumped against the wall opposite him.

_Kirin._ He staggered as if in a dream, over to where the boy lay with his back to the wall. The gashes in his clothes were angry red lines, and the blood pooled around him. Yasuo knelt down next to him, extending a shaking hand. When he pressed his hand to Kirin's ruined chest, he thought he felt the dogged beating of a living heart. Acting swiftly, he ducked down, pressing his ear to his chest. He was right; he could hear the unsteady tattoo of a dying heart.

"Kirin," he said urgently, putting pressure onto the boy's wounds. "Kirin, can you hear me? Stay with me, now."

Kirin's eyes fluttered open, and they were full of pain, terror, and confusion. They focused on Yasuo, and his mouth worked noiselessly.

"No, don't try to talk," said Yasuo. But he knew it was useless. The wounds were too deep; it was only a matter of time before they took their toll. He closed his eyes against the burning sensation. _I failed them. I've failed everyone I've ever known._

When Kirin spoke, it was like a ghost spoke.

"Y- Ya- Yasuo?"

Yasuo looked up into his eyes. He could not stand them, so full of an innocent terror and fear. The fear of not understanding the tragedy that befell him.

"They- they were looking for you. Wh- why were they looking fo- for you?"

Yasuo's voice was emotional through the knot in his throat. "It's all my fault, Kirin. I couldn't stop them. I've killed you all."

"No… no, it- it wasn't you… It was others. They took Rala in- into the room. I heard them. Heard her, sc- screaming- begging…" he choked on the words, the sound harsh in his throat. His breathing grew suddenly ragged, and his eyes focused on something behind Yasuo, something he could not see. He drew a final, shuddering breath, and then was still. His hands slumped at his sides, and Yasuo's shook on his chest.

Yasuo had seen death. He had lived it, he had breathed it, he had even cut the life from others. But never like this. This was something else entirely; this was not killing. This was slaughter; slaughter of the body, of the mind, of the soul. He stood shakily, leaving the form of Kirin where he lay.

_I am going to finish this. I will see this through. I owe them that much. _

He walked slowly to where he knew Rala lay. They had left her, lying like a broken puppet on the bed. Yasuo looked away, reaching out with a blind hand to pull the covers up over her body. Only then could he look. Her eyes were dull and lifeless, staring at him without seeing. With a shaking hand, he reached out. Placing his fingers tenderly on her eyelids, he closed them.

Yasuo had not registered the rain. It fell like tears around him, and he could hear the monotonous roar against the rooftop. His yell of agony was lost in a thunderclap.

* * *

He stumbled out of the house into the rain, falling onto his knees into the mud. His shoulders shook with fury and grief as he remembered Toru's words.

_Promise me that you'll find your way without having to hurt anyone else._

The grinning face of Bakh rose with the bile in his throat. "No. I can't- I _won't_ let them get away with this."

Something grew deep in his mind; the seed of fury and rage. For months, he had been without a purpose. He thought that the words Yone had spoken to him had given him a new purpose. But they had not. He had a truer purpose now; one that he knew would drive him until he burned out. Standing, he walked over to where Lizard stood watching in the rain. At the sight of Yasuo's expression, he began to back away, but Yasuo caught him by the collar and pulled him close.

"I'm coming with you. We're going to hunt those sons of bitches down and we're going to kill them." He did not wait for him to reply, instead releasing him and walking past him. He had gone several feet before Lizard called out from behind him.

"Aren't you going to bury them?"

Yasuo froze. The anger that had fueled his stride vanished in him now, and instead he stood, drained, in the downpour. They were truly gone. And nothing he could do would bring them back.

"No," he said shortly. "I don't deserve to bury them."

Yasuo walked away down the raining forest, not looking back to see if Lizard had followed him.

* * *

The rain had abated slightly before Yasuo stopped again. He was breathing heavily, and raindrops ran like tears down his face. But he was not crying.

He could tell from the sound that followed him that Lizard had been walking behind him without saying a word. He stopped, and it was some time before the bounty hunter arrived at his side. Yasuo looked up to the sky, blinking against the raindrops that fell on his face. He thought of the peaceful Ionian family that now lay cold where they had once lived. He thought of how death seemed to hang over him, ready to clutch those who strayed too close to him with sharp claws and razor teeth.

_If death is the wind¸_ he thought forebodingly, _then I am a hurricane._

Then his thoughts strayed to the group of men that he now hunted, and a grim determination set his face.

_The gales of the hurricane will tear them apart. I will teach them to fear the wind at their backs._ His hand tightened on the hilt of his sword. _I hope they savor these breaths they draw. For they will be their last. _


	17. Chapter 14: The Exile

Chapter 14: The Exile

_Screams rose like smoke all around her. They clawed at her ears and tore at her heart, undulating into the grey sky overhead. She could smell burning flesh and the metallic scent of spilt blood was heavy in the air. Chemical fumes burned at her eyes and she shut them against the horror. Her arms were on fire; it felt as though her skin was peeling off, and she held her sword only because she could no longer feel her hands._

_She could see them out of the corner of her eyes: flailing figures that tore at their own skin, the harsh flashes of light signaling the advent of another Melter. Ionian, Noxian. Neither was spared. _

_She stumbled, stepping over the fallen bodies of enemies and comrades alike. Her lungs burned with ash and smoke, and each breath only stung her chest more. Her vision was blurred, but even that could not block out what she saw. The sightless eyes of the dead looked accusingly up at her, as if blaming her for surviving. Their flesh was ruined and burned, and some stirred weakly in their final moments._

_She did not know how her sword had broken, but now it hung uselessly from her limp hand. Her knees shook for only a moment before they gave out and she fell onto them. She collapsed onto her hands, and she looked at her arms._

_The skin was red and raw and bleeding. It was as if she had held them over an open fire. But it was not a fire that had caused it; she had been struck by a Melter, and although she suffered a far better fate than those in the immediate blast radius, the chemical weapon still made her want to scream until her voice was hoarse._

_With a cry of pain, she clenched her hands into a fist, and her fingers dug into the dirt beneath her palms. Over the screams of the dead and the dying, she heard another sound; it came from inside her head and all around her – a yell of agony and pain and suffering and fury, one she had never heard before in her nightmares. It was at the same time pained and angry: an animalistic roar of pure grief and hate._

_And it came for her._

* * *

Her room was still dark when Riven awoke_._ Her eyes looked wildly around the room before closing again, and she wiped away a trace of moisture from her eye. She was shuddering beneath her covers, and they were damp with a cold sweat. Her arms ached dully beneath her bandages, and it hurt to move her hands. She sat up in bed, rubbing her arms to try to warm herself. But it was not working; she was as numb and as cold as ever, and her old wounds pained her as much as the memories.

"What was that?" she muttered to herself. The dream was nothing new to her; she had lived it in her nightmares more times than she could count, and visions of that day had come to her even during the daytime. Her past haunted her with the screams of those who died that day. But she had never heard that scream before, in her nightmares or in her flashbacks.

_What was that?_ She thought again to herself, painfully wiping her brow with the back of her hand. For some time, she remained sitting up in bed, massaging her arms as best she could and debating whether she should see Soraka. The Starchild was the only one who had ever been able to lessen the pain in her arms, and at the times when it became unbearably excruciating, she sought her help. Tonight was one of those nights, and she inhaled sharply as her arms flared with pain. She always made sure to visit Soraka at night, so as not to be seen by other champions of the League.

She did not want any of the others to think that she could not handle pain. Despite the relief it gave her, Riven did not like going to the Starchild; it made her feel weak – like she did not deserve to be a Noxian soldier.

_But I'm not anymore… am I?_ she thought grimly.

Holding her arms close to herself, she swung her legs over the side of the bed. She dressed slowly, hissing in pain with every movement of her hands.

She stepped quietly out her room, dressed in her standard clothing and closing the door silently behind her. The halls of the Institute of War were empty in the early morning, and her footsteps echoed slightly down the empty corridors. Leaving the section of the champion rooms where those unaffiliated with any city-state resided, she made her way over to where she knew Ionian champions made their residence.

It took her only a little while to find the room she was looking for; she knew the path by now, and its door was a recognizable one. The door to the Starchild's chamber was covered in a celestial pattern that shifted and undulated slowly like the night sky. Small pinpricks of light that resembled stars swam easily across the black surface of the door while small celestial bodies moved slowly across the simulated night sky.

Riven took a deep breath before knocking gingerly on the door. It took a moment – and another, more urgent knock – before she heard the soft footfalls coming from within. The door opened slowly, and in the gap between door and doorway, the face of the Starchild appeared. Soraka's eyes were dull with sleep, and she blinked blearily at Riven. For a moment, she seemed to not recognize her, but then her expression changed as she saw who it was and it became one of a knowing sort of weariness.

"Again?" she asked Riven tiredly. It was not that the Starchild disliked helping Riven – she was far too caring to leave anyone to suffer, even an enemy – but rather that she had grown accustomed to seeing Riven appearing at her door at ungodly hours; hours when she would have much rather liked to spend getting some much needed rest. Riven nodded, and Soraka sighed, opening the door and motioned for her to enter.

"Come on in, then."

* * *

Soraka's room was much like her door: full of astral images that Riven was sure reminded the Starchild of her old home. The walls were made of the same material as the door, and they shifted to reflect the night sky outside. Medicinal herbs and plants hung out of baskets that were hung from the ceiling, and the room was heavy with their scent. Riven could smell the familiar, calming aroma of pine needles and spearmint, among others.

Soraka – ever the diligent healer – had several hospital beds set up in her apartment, and Riven sat down on the one which she gestured to. Soraka's hooves made a calming noise like that of rainfall as she walked slowly around the room, muttering to herself and picking out various herbs from the hanging baskets.

Taking a mortar and pestle, she began to grind the plants, murmuring low incantations over the mixture in a language Riven could not understand. Soraka placed a hand over her mouth to stifle a yawn as she walked over to where Riven sat. Pulling up a chair of her own, she sat in front of Riven.

"Your arms, please," she said gently, placing the mortar beside her on the bed and grabbing hold of her staff.

Slowly, Riven extended her arms, helping Soraka to unravel the bandages around her arm. Riven let go of the breath she did not know she was holding, and exhaled slowly. She looked down at her forearms: they were scarred and burnt and ached with a deep pain.

"Rub the salve on your arms," said Soraka gently, handing the mortar to Riven. She obliged immediately, giving a small sigh of relief as she rubbed the balm into her skin. Soraka held her staff over Riven's arms, whispering the incantations as she passed her staff over her arms.

Close to half an hour had passed before Soraka finally lowered her staff, sighing in exhaustion and slumping against her chair.

"That should do it… for now," she said tiredly. She handed Riven fresh bandages, watching her as she wrapped them around her arms.

"Thank you again, Soraka," said Riven finally. Soraka merely gave a weak smile in response.

"Anytime, Riven."

Riven took a hesitant breath. "I mean it, Soraka. I know how… difficult it can be to deal with me. I don't want you to think I'm being ungrateful."

Soraka placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "I understand, Riven; ease your mind." But then she gave a wry smile. "I would just prefer it if you didn't have such peculiar sleeping habits. I know you've said you don't like coming to me during the day, but…"

Riven looked down at her bandaged hands. "I don't want to seem weak, Soraka.," she said quietly. Soraka merely sighed, shaking her head.

"Seeking help is not weakness, Riven. Sometimes, it's the hardest thing someone can do." A small smile played at her lips. "And besides, whenever Darius or Draven breaks a leg, they don't waste time coming to see me."

Riven laughed lightly as she stood, the image of a Darius on crutches in her mind. "I'll keep that in mind, Soraka."

Soraka stood as well, walking with Riven to the door. She leaned against the doorway, handing Riven a fresh roll of bandages.

"Good night, Riven."

"Good night, Soraka."


	18. Chapter 15: Noxian

Chapter 15: Noxian

Riven held her sword firmly in one hand. Its weight was comforting and her breathing was steady as she levelled it in front of her eyes. She held it there for several seconds, inhaling deeply as she looked down the broken edge of her blade. Slowly, she began to swing it in close circles around her, moving as though she were underwater. She went through the motions of her techniques, exhaling with every slow movement.

This was her way of training, one that the Ionians had taught her. They had shown her that there was more to strength than brute force; patience, fortitude, and willpower often meant more than might alone. They had shown her how to train with her blade – how to hone her skills without wasting her energy. When they had first offered to show her, she had scoffed at them. Who were they to tell her how to train? They did not know how to use her sword! But Irelia had implored her to listen – to try. Reluctantly, she had agreed, and despite herself, she had been impressed.

Their method was to mirror the techniques they would use in a real battle but far more slowly, in order to prepare the body for what would lie ahead. That way, their bodies would remember the movements, and the mind would be ready to make them. As reluctant as Riven was to admit it, it had worked; she had found her movements in battle to be easier to make, and her mind was sharper than it had been before.

The rough sand of the training arena shifted beneath her sandaled feet as she slid them over the floor. The blank eyes of the wooden mannequins before her watched her blankly as she moved in front of them.

They reminded her of the dead.

She faltered for a moment as the memories of her past flashed before her eyes; the empty eyes of the dead glared accusingly at her and the screams of the dying echoed in her ears. She paused where she stood, hand shaking slightly on her blade. Slowly, the shaking stopped, and her breathing steadied once more. She closed her eyes, sword still held out in front of her.

_Why can't they ever leave me alone?_

"Still training?" came a familiar voice from behind her. Riven opened her eyes and turned to face the newcomer.

It was a young woman, no older than Riven herself. Dark blue hair fell down her back past her shoulders, and her emerald eyes watched Riven intently. Four blades hovered weightlessly in the air behind her, swaying as if in a breeze. Irelia was not dressed in her typical Captain of the Guard outfit, instead opting for a simple, pale yellow dress. At the sight of her friend, Riven's heart lifted.

"Irelia, back already?" she asked, walking over to her friend and hugging her warmly. Irelia nodded.

"Yes. A little earlier than I would have liked. My vacation wasn't long, but I enjoyed it nonetheless. It's always good to get away from the League." Irelia stepped back, looking around at the empty training room with a slight frown. "Apparently you don't think the same way. Training even on your off days?"

Riven shrugged, smiling sheepishly. "What can I say? I get restless when I stay still."

Irelia laughed slightly. "That's for sure. But even you should take a day off once in a while. You know, unwind a bit, maybe meet some new people."

"I don't really think I'm the people kind of person, Irelia."

"Well, that certainly shouldn't stop you from trying!" Irelia paused for a moment, apparently in thought. Then, she spoke again, this time with a more animated tone. "I know! There's a new restaurant that opened up near the Institute. Want to go check it out, maybe have some girl time and catch up?"

Riven looked at her friend in narrowly concealed surprise. _Girl time?_ she thought to herself. She could not help but feel like Irelia had some sort of ulterior motive for inviting her.

She took a hesitant breath. "I… guess?" she said uncertainly. Irelia beamed.

"Great! I'll meet you by the main doors, then. Don't be late!" called Irelia over her shoulder as she walked quickly out of the training arena. The door shut behind her, but Riven remained where she stood, still unsure at exactly what she had agreed to.

* * *

Riven felt strange in casual clothes. She had changed into a plain shirt and pants, and she felt strangely light without her sword or armor. Standing awkwardly by the main doors of the Institute, she hoped with all her might that Irelia would hurry up. She had already been waiting for close to twenty minutes, and there was still no sign of Irelia anywhere.

_Maybe I should just go home_, she thought to herself. But then she shook her head, imagining how disappointed Irelia would be if she left. _I can't just do that to her. She's the only real friend I have. _Riven sighed, crossing her arms and closing her eyes as she leaned against the doors of the Institute.

"Hey, traitor," said an easy voice beside her. It was irritatingly cocky, as if the speaker considered himself the greatest thing to ever walk the earth. Which he did.

Riven did not have to open her eyes to know who it was. _Draven._ Despite herself, she opened one eye to glare at the executioner. He was standing with an infuriatingly punchable grin on his face, one hand on his hip and the other leaning against the wall beside her. As always, he was near shirtless, instead wearing an unbuttoned shirt that showed off his impressive physique.

"What do you want, Draven?" she asked coldly. She did not want to deal with the narcissistic, self-centered douchebag that was the Glorious Executioner.

"Nothing. Just wondering what you were doing." He pulled a knife from his pocket and flicked it easily into the air before catching it again. He twirled it in his hands once more before pausing as he used it to pick his fingernails.

"Isn't it obvious?" she snapped at him. He was, without a doubt, one of the most irritating people on the planet. Sometimes, she wondered how Darius could ever keep his patience with him. She almost admired the general for that. Almost.

"Ooh, feisty. Is it that time of the month again?"

Riven did not answer, pressing her lips tightly together.

"Aww, come on, sweet thing, don't be like that," he said in a mockingly pleading tone. "Tell me what you're doing here."

"I'm waiting for someone," she said shortly. Immediately, she regretted speaking. Draven's eyes grew, and he grinned wickedly.

"Waiting for someone? Like, for a date? Why wasn't Draven invited?"

This time, Riven made sure not to answer. _I won't do it. I won't let him goad me._

"Oh, come on, you can tell me! This is Draven you're talking to! It's a date, isn't it? It's totally a date."

Riven looked away pointedly. _Not going to do it. Not going to do it, _she repeated in her head.

"With who? Is it Urgot? Or maybe Rengar? No, no, I know! It's the black guy, right? What's his name? Lucy? Lucky? Something like that. Come on, Riven. He had a wife, you can't just jump on him like that."

Riven's hands shook with anger, but she kept them tucked firmly away into her arms.

"Ah, it doesn't matter. They're not here now. They stood you up! But that's not really a surprise. Who'd want to sleep with you? You're not a Noxian anymore, and even though you try to be an Ionian, you're not that either. You're just lost, lonely and alone."

Riven felt as though she had been slapped; his tone had changed without warning, shifting from a mocking tone to one that was cold and dangerous. His words cut through her, their truth striking deep in her chest.

"Aww, did I hurt your feelings? I wasn't sure you had any."

Riven felt his hand clamp down like iron on her wrist. Quick as lightning, she had grabbed his arm and twisted it behind his back, ignoring the cry of pain he gave. She forced him to his knees, drilling her own into the small of his back.

"Don't you _ever_ touch me," she growled in his ear. She shoved him roughly forward, and he stumbled before he caught himself.

"Riven!" came a voice from down the hall. Riven looked up to see Irelia walking swiftly over to where she stood. From where he lay on the floor, Draven looked between them as an expression of understanding crossed his face. He gave a whistle of appreciation.

"Damn, Rivs, I didn't know you swung that way! But, hey, I don't judge. Draven's down for three!" He stood hastily as one of Irelia's blades pressed itself to the underside of his neck.

"I would shut your mouth if I were you," she said in his ear. "I would also run."

Draven gave them a backwards glance as he massaged his arm. Riven's hands were clenched into fists, and they shook as she watched him go.

"Are you alright?" asked Irelia quietly once he had left.

"I'm fine."

"What did he say?"

"Nothing."

Irelia gave her a concerned look but said nothing. Riven took another breath to steady herself, willing herself to calm her shaking hands. _It's all true. Everything he said._ She had known it ever since she had revealed her identity in the League of Legends. Noxians hated her for surviving, Ionians distrusted her for her past, Demacians hated her for being a Noxian, and even Zaunites refused to associate with her for fear of retribution from Noxus. She was alone. She had no one and no home to return to.

"Maybe we shouldn't go to the restaurant," said Irelia finally, still watching her friend closely.

"Irelia, I said I'm fine."

"I know what you said. But I don't think you mean it."

"Irelia, we're going. And that's final."


End file.
